IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


4^ 


i/s 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


!f  1^  IM 

■^  1^    ill  2.2 

S:  lis  IIIIIM 


1.4 


1.6 


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7 


7 


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Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  NY.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


'%^ 


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L^- 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  canadien  de  microreproductions  historiques 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best 
original  copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this 
copy  which  may  be  bibliographically  unique, 
which  may  alter  any  of  the  images  in  the 
reproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  change 
the  usual  method  of  filming,  are  checked  below. 


n 

n 

n 
n 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 

Covers  damaged/ 
Couverture  endommagde 

Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaur6e  et/ou  pellicul^e 

Cover  title  missing/ 

Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 

Coloured  maps/ 

Cartes  gdographiques  en  couleur 

Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

Coloured  plates  and/or  iilustra^'ons/ 
Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

Bound  with  other  material/ 
Relii  avec  d'autres  documents 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

La  reliure  serr^e  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
distortion  le  long  de  la  marge  intdrieure 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajout^es 
lors  d'une  restauration  apparaissent  dans  le  texte, 
mais,  lorsque  cela  dtait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  6x6  filmies. 


L'Institut  a  microfilm^  le  meilleur  exemplaire 
qu'il  lui  a  6t6  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details 
de  cet  exemplaire  qui  sont  peut-dtre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibiiographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  mithode  normale  de  filmage 
sont  indiquis  ci-dessous. 


r~~|    Coloured  pages/ 


D 


Pages  de  couleur 

Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommag^es 

Pages  restored  and/oi 

Pages  restaur6es  et/ou  pellicul6es 

Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxet 
Pages  ddcolor^es,  tacheties  ou  piqudes 

Pages  detached/ 
Pages  ddtach^es 

Showthrough/ 
Transparence 

Qua'ity  of  prir 

Qualiti  in^gale  de  i'impression 

Includes  supplementary  materia 
Comprend  du  matdriel  suppldmentaire 

Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  6diiion  disponible 


I      I  Pages  damaged/ 

I      I  Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 

I      I  Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 

I      I  Pages  detached/ 

I      I  Showthrough/ 

r~~[  Qua'ity  of  print  varies/ 

|~71  Includes  supplementary  material/ 

I      I  Only  edition  available/ 


Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  bast  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totelemtmt  ou  partiellement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  6t^  filmdes  6  nouveau  de  fa9on  6 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


□ 


Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  suppl6mentairas; 


Paf!:;ination   irrep;ular  ai 
[1],    [1^51    -    IB^   p. 


follows:    [3]    -    215, 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  filing  au  taux  de  reduction  indiqui  ci-dessous. 

10X  14X  18X  22X 


26X 


30X 


12X 


16X 


20X 


24X 


28X 


32X 


tails 

du 
odifier 

une 
mage 


The  copy  filmed  here  has  been  reproduced  thanks 
to  tht>  generosity  of: 

University  of  Victoria 
McPherson  Library 

The  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  cddition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  keeping  with  the 
filming  contract  specifications. 


L'exemplaire  film6  fut  reproduit  grSce  i  la 
g6n6rosit6  de: 

University  of  Victoria 
McPherson  Library 

Les  images  suivantes  ont  6t6  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin,  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  et 
de  la  nettetd  de  l'exemplaire  film6,  et  en 
conformity  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  imfes- 
sion,  or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


Les  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprimde  sont  film^s  en  commenpant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  selon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  film^s  en  commenpant  par  la 
premiere  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  —^-  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 


Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaitra  sur  la 
dernidre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbols  — •-  signifie  "A  SUIVRE",  le 
symbole  V  signifie  "FIN". 


Maps,  plates,  chart?,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  gtre 
film^s  d  des  taux  de  reduction  diffdrents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  etre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  cliche,  il  est  film6  d  partir 
de  Tangle  sup6rieur  gauche,  de  gauche  d  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  n^cessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  m6thode. 


rrata 
o 


3elure, 
1  A 


5. 


n 


32X 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

The  Unseen  Bridegroom; 


OR, 


WEDDED  FOR  A  WEEK. 


I 


BT 


MAY  AGNES  FLEMING. 


-♦♦♦- 


entered  aceordtno  to  A<^  of  CongreM,  in  ihe  year  1889,  bv 

DAVIS  &  El-VKRSON, 

■:n  tht  OffiM  (kf  the  Clerk  of  the  Dietrivl  Curl  of  the  United  States,  in  and  fo: 

the  KaHe,  *  District  of  ftn7WyJta«i«. 


CHICAGO : 

M.  A.  Don  Oil  uE  k  Co. 


THE  UNSEEN  BRIDEGROOM. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE   WALRAVEN   BALL. 

A  DARK  November  afternoon — wet,  and  windy,  and  wild. 
The  Now  York  streets  were  at  their  worst — sloppy,  slippery, 
iitid  sodden;  tlio  sky  lowcriii;?  over  those  murky  streets  one 
uniform  pall  of  inky  gloom.  A  bad,  desolate,  blood-chilling 
November  afternoon. 

And  yet  Mrs.  Wal raven's  ball  was  to  come  off  to-night,  and 
it  was  rather  hard  upon  Mrs.  Wal  raven  that  the  elements 
should  make  a  dead  set  at  her  after  this  fa.sliion. 

The  ball  was  to  bo  one  of  the  most  brilliant  affairs  of  the 
season,  and  all  Fifth  Avenue  was  to  bo  there  in  its  glory. 

Fifth  Avenue  was  above  caring  for  anything  so  common- 
place as  the  weather,  of  course;  but  still  it  would  have  been 
pleasantcr,  and  only  a  handsome  thing  in  the  clerk  of  the 
weather,  considering  Mrs.  Walraven  had  not  given  a  ball  for 
twenty  years  b  Tore,  to  have  burnished  up  the  sun,  and 
brushed  away  the  clouds,  and  shut  up  that  ioy  army  of  winter 
winds,  and  turned  out  as  neat  an  article  of  weather  as  it  is 
possible  in  the  nature  of  November  to  turn  out. 

Of  course,  Mrs.  Walraven  dwelt  on  New  York's  statelieat 
avenue,  in  a  big  brown-stone  palace  that  was  like  a  palace  in 
an  Eastern  story,  with  its  velvet  carpets,  its  arabesques,  its 
liligree  work,  it's  chairs,  atil  tables,  and  sofas  touched  up  and 
inlaid  with  gold,  and  cushioned  in  silks  of  gorgeous  dyes. 

And  in  all  Fifth  Avenue,  and  in  all  New  York  City,  there 
were  not  half  a  dozen  old  women  of  sixty  half  so  rich,  half  so 
arr(.gant,  or  half  so  ill-tempered  as  Mrs.  Ferdinand  Walraven. 

On  thi^  bad  November  afternoon,  while  the  lain  and  sleet 
lashod  the  lofty  windnsvs,  and  the  shrill  winds  whistled  around 
the  gables,  Mrs.  Ferdimitid  Walraven's  only  son  sat  in  his 
chamber,  staring  out  ot  the  window,  and  smoking  no  end  of 
cigars. 


6 


THE    UNSEEN    BRIDEOROOM. 


Fifth  Avcmio,  in  the  raw  and  rii'ny  twiliu'iif,  i-i  not  i\w 
Kprightlicst  >s[)i)t  on  earth,  and  thoro  was  very  liiliu  for  Mr. 
Walruvon  to  gazo  at  except  the  stages  rattling  up  the  pave, 
and  some  belated  newsboys  orying  their  vvaies. 

rorhaps  those  satue  little  ill-clad  novvobjys',  looking  up 
through  <lio  slanting  rain,  and  seeing  the  well-dressed  gentle- 
man bchiinl  the  ricli  draperies,  thou^dit  it  ruiisl  be  a  lino  thing 
to  be  Mr.  Ctrl  Walraven,  Iieir  to  a  half  a  million  of  money 
and  the  handsomest  house  in  Tsew  York. 

rorliai)8  vou  might  have  ihoiiglit  so,  too,  glancing  into  that 
lofty  chamb.M-,  with  its  glowing  hangings  of  ruby  and  gold, 
its  exqui;si(e  pictures,  its  inlaid  tables,  its  twinkling  cht 'ide- 
lier,  its  perfumed  warmth,  and  glitter,  and  luxury. 

]jut  Carl  Walraven,  lying  back  in  a  big  easy-chair,  in  slip- 
pers and  dressing-gown,  smelling  his  costly  cheroots,  looked 
out  at  the  dismal  evening  with  the  blackest  of  bitter,  black 
scowls. 

"Confound  the  weatherl"  muttered  Mr.  Walraven,  be- 
tween strong,  white  teeth.  "  Why  the  deuco  does  it  always 
rain  on  the  twenty-lifth  of  November?  Huvonteen  years  ago, 
on  the  twenty-llfth  of  this  horrible  month,  I  was  in  Paris,  and 
Miriam  was —  Miriam  bo  hanged!"  Ho  sto])i>ed  abruptly, 
and  pitched  his  cigar  out  of  the  window.  "  I'ou'vo  turned 
over  a  new  leaf,  Carl  Walraven,  and  wliat  the  demon  do  you 
mean  by  going  back  to  the  old  leaves?  You've  come  homo 
from  foreign  parts  to  your  old  and  doting  mother — I  thought 
she  would  be  in  her  dotage  by  this  time — and  you're  a  respon- 
sible citizen,  and  an  eminently  rich  and  respectable  man. 
Carl,  my  boy,  forget  the  past,  and  behave  yourself  tor  the 
future;  as  the  copy-books  say:  '  Be  virtuous  and  you  will  be 
ha})py.'  " 

no  laughed  to  himself,  a  laugh  unpleasant  to  hear,  and  tak- 
ing up  another  cigar,  wont  on  smoking. 

He  had  been  awjiy  twenty  years,  this  Carl  Walraven,  over 
the  workl,  nobody  knew  where.  A  reckless,  self-willed,  head- 
strong boy,  he  had  broken  wild  and  run  away  from  home  at 
ninetctii,  abruptly  and  without  warning.  Abruptly  ami  with- 
out warning  he  had  returned  home,  one  line  morning,  twenty 
years  after,  and  walking  vp  the  palatial  step?*,  shabby,  and 
grizzled,  and  wcalher-bratcn,  had  strode  straight  to  the 
majestic  pr(*euco  of  the  mi;itres8  of  the  house,  with  out- 
■tretched  hand  and  a  cool  "  How  aro  you,  mother?" 

And  Mrs.  A\'al raven  knew  her  son.  He  had  left  her  a 
fiery,  liandtiome,  bright-faced  lad,  and  this  man  before  her 
was  gray  and  blacK-bearded  and  weather-beaten  and  brown. 


THE    rXSEEN    TiRIDrnROOV. 


but  she  kiU'SV  him.     Sho  Inul  risnii  with  a  shrill  ciy  of  jdv, 
uiul  hold  optin  hor  uriiis. 

"  I've  como  back,  you  see,  uiother."  Mr.  Carl  Kuid,  family, 
"  like  tlio  ])roverbial  bad  shilling.  I've  grown  tirod  knocking 
about  this  big  world,  and  now,  at  nino-and-tUirLy,  with  an 
('ni[)ty  ])ur80,  a  light  heart,  a  spotless  conscionce,  and  a  huuii.1 
digestion,  I'm  going  to  settle  down  and  walk  in  the  way  f 
should  go.  You  arc  glad  to  have  your  ne'er-do-well  back 
again,  I  hope,  mother?" 

(ilaill  A  widowed  mother,  lonely  and  old,  glad  to  have  an 
only  son  back!  Mrs.  Walravon  had  tightened  those  witherc.l 
arms  about  hiiri  closer  and  closer,  with  only  that  one  shrill 
cry: 

"Oh,  Carl— my  son!  my  son!'' 

"  All  right,  mother!  And  now,  if  there's  anything  in  this 
house  to  eat,  I'll  eat  it,  because  I've  been  fasting  since  yester- 
day, and  haven't  a  stiver  between  me  and  eternity.  15y 
George!  this  isn't  sucli  a  bad  harbor  for  a  shipwrecked 
mariner  to  cast  anchor  in.  I've  been  over  the  world,  mother, 
from  Dan  to — What's-hor-nuinc!  I've  been  rich  and  I'vo 
been  poor;  I've  been  loved  and  J've  been  hated;  I've  had  my 
fling  at  everything  good  and  bad  under  the  shining  sun,  and 
T  come  home  from  it  all,  sub-cribidg  to  the  doctrine:  '  There's 
nothing  new  and  nothing  true.'  And  it  don't  Kignify;  it's 
empty  as  egg-.sheilrf,  the  whole  of  it." 

That  vv;is  tho  story  of  the  prodigal  son.  Mr.-;.  AValravcn 
asked  no  (juestions-  She  w"..->  a  wise  old  woman;  she  took  her 
son  and  was  thankful.  It  had  hapiK'ned  late  in  Oct.>I)er,  this 
sudden  arrival,  and  now,  late  in  November,  the  fatted  calf 
was  killed,  and  Mrs.  Walraven's  dear  live  h'.indred  friends 
bidden  to  the  feast. 

And  they  came.  They  had  all  heard  the  story  of  the 
widow's  heir,  so  long  lost,  and  now,  dark  and  mysterious  as 
Count  Lara,  returned  to  lord  it  in  his  ancestral  halls.  Ho 
was  a  very  hero  of  romance — a  wealthy  hero,  too — and  all  the 
pretty  man -craps  on  the  avenue,  baited  with  lace  and  roses, 
silk  and  jewels,  were  coming  to-night  to  angle  for  thisdiizzling 
prize. 

T'he  long-silent  drawing-rooms,  shrouded  for  twenty  years 
in  hoUand  and  darkness,  were  one  blaze  of  light  at  last. 
Flowers  bloomed  everywhere;  musicians,  up  in  a  gilded  gal- 
lery, discoursed  heavenly  music;  there  was  a  conservatory 
where  alabaster  lamps  made  a  silver  mooidight  in  a  modern 
Carden  of  Kden;  there  was  a  supper-table  s])road  and  waiting, 
a  feast  for  the  go  Is  and  Sybarites;  and  there  was  Mrs.  Wal- 


THE    UNSEEN    BRIDEOROOIC. 


raTcn,  in  black  velvet  ami  point  luce,  upright  am]  stutcly,  iln- 
spite  her  sixty  years,  with  a  diarnoml  Htar  of  fabulous  prioe 
aolaae  on  her  breast.  And  there  by  her  h'hW.,  tall,  ami  dark, 
aad  dignified,  stood  her  only  Hon,  the  prodigal,  tho  repontunt, 
the  wealthy  Carl  Walraven. 

"  Not  liandsome,"  said  Miss  lUandie  Oleander,  raiding  her 
glass,  "  but  eminently  interesting.  He  looks  like  the  htrf)  of 
a  sensation  novel,  or  a  modern  melodrama,  or  one  of  Lord 
Byron's  poems.  Does  he  ilanc^e,  and  will  he  a.sk  me,  1  won- 
der?" 

Yes,  the  dusky  hero  of  the  night  did  danoe,  and  did  ask 
Miss  lilanche  Oleander.  A  tall,  gray-eyed,  im[H'riou8  sort  of 
beauty,  ttiis  Miss  Blanche,  t;even-and-tvventy  years  of  age,  and 
frightfully  pussee,  more  youthful  belles  said. 

Mr.  Walraven  danced  tho  very  first  dance  witli  i\li(]s  Olean- 
der, to  her  infinite  but  perfectly  concealed  delight. 

)U  can  imagine  the  Cor8uir,  whirling  in  a  rapid  redowa 
wit  lora,"  Miss  Oleander  afterward  said,  "  you  have  Mr. 

Wj»ri,,(;n  and  mj'self.  There  were  about  eighty  (Juinares 
gazing  enviously  on.  ready  to  poniard  me,  every  one  of  them, 
if  they  dared,  and  if  they  were  not  sucii  miserable  little  fools 
and  cowards.  When  they  cease  to  smell  of  bread  and  butter, 
Mr.  Walraven  may  possibly  deign  to  look  at  them." 

It  seemed  as  if  the  dashing  Blanche  had  waltzed  herself 
straight  into  the  allections  of  tho  new-found  heir,  for  he  de- 
voted himself  to  her  in  the  most  prononrc  manner  for  the  first 
three  hours,  and  afterward  led  her  in  to  supper. 

Miss  Blanche  sailed  along  uerene,  uplifted,  splendidly  calm; 
the  little  belles  in  lace,  and  roses,  and  pearls,  tl uttered  and 
twittered  like  angry  doves;  and  Mme.  Walraven,  from  tho 
heights  of  her  hostess-throne,  looked  aslant  at  her  velvet  and 
diamonds  with  uneasy  old  eyes. 

"  The  last  ot  all  you  should  have  selec.'ted,'"  she  said,  xvay- 
laying  her  son  after  supper.  "  A  wojnan  without  a  heart, 
Carl— a  modern  Minerva.  1  have  no  wish  to  interfere  with 
you,  my  son;  1  shall  call  the  day  happy  that  brings  me  your 
wife,  but  not  Blanche  Oleander — not  that  cold-blooded,  bold- 
faced, overgrown  grenadier." 

Madame  hissed  out  the  words  between  a  set  of  spiteful,  false 
teeth,  and  glared,  as  women  do  glare,  upon  the  gray-eyed 
Blanche.     And  Carl  listened,  and  laughed  sardonically. 

"  A  woman  without  a  heart.  So  much  the  better,  mother; 
the  less  heuit  the  more  head;  and  1  like  your  clever,  dashing 
women,  who  are  big  and  buxom,  and  able  to  take  care  of 
themselves.     Uon'l  forget,  mother  mine,  I  liaven'fc  proposed 


THE    UN8EEN    BRIDHQROOM. 


to  the  Bpurkling  Blanche,  nnd  I  don't  think  I  shall — to-night. 
Yon  wouldn't  have  mo  fall  at  the  feot  of  tliose  niealy-wiiigort 
moths  tlr.ttering  uronml  us,  with  heads  softer  than  thoir  po:: 
little  hoards— you  woiililti't,  I  hopu?" 

With  wuich  Mr.  Wiilravon  wi'iit  strai^'ht  back  to  Miss 
Oh'andor  aiul  asked  hor  to  danco  tlio  la!icers. 

Miss  Okarilor,  turning  with  inolTablo  calm  from  a  bevy  of 
rosi!-n»l)ed  antl  whito-rol)''d  yi'Ung  ladies,  said,  **  Yes,"  as  if 
Mr.  Walraveii  was  no  moro  than  any  other  man,  and  stood 
u])  to  take  his  urm. 

Jjut  there  is  many  a  8li|).  Miss  Oleander  and  Mr.  Walraveu 
never  danced  that  particular  set,  for  just  then  there  came  s 
ring  at.  the  door-bell  so  pi-aling  and  imperious  that  it  sounded 
sharply  oven  through  the  noisy  biill-roorn. 

"  The  Marble  (iuost,  surely,"  Jilanche  said,  "  and  very  de- 
termined to  bo  heard." 

]'>e)'ore  the  words  were  well  uttered  there  was  a  south!  of  aa 
altercation  in  the  hull — one  of  the  tall  footmen  pathetically 
protesting,  and  a  shrill  female  voice  refusing  to  listen  to  those 
plaintive  protests.     Then  there  suddenly  fell  peace. 

"  After  a  storm  there  cometh  a  calm,"  Mr.  Walraven  said. 
"  Miss  Oleander,  shall  we  move  on?  Well,  Johnson,  what  is 
it?" 

For  Johnson,  tho  taller  of  the  two  tall  footmen,  stood  be- 
fore them  gazing  beseechingly  at  his  master. 

"  It's  a  woman,  sir,  all  wet  and  dirty,  and  horrid  to  look 
at.  She  says  she  will  see  you,  and  there  she  stands,  and  Wil- 
son nor  mo  we  can't  do  nothing  with  her.  If  you  don't  come 
she  says  she'll  walk  up  hero  and  make  you  come.  Them," 
said  Johnson,  plaintively,  "  were  her  own  langui'ge." 

lilunche  Oleander,  gazing  up  at  her  companion's  face,  saw 
it  chfuiging  to  a  startled,  dusky  white. 

"Some  beggar — some  troublesome  tramj>,  I  daro  say." 
]{ut  he  droi)peti  'ler  arm  abruptly  as  he  said  it.  "  Excuse  mo 
a  moment.  Miss  Oleander.  I  had  better  see  her  to  prevent 
noise.     Kow,  then,  Johnson." 

Mr.  Johnson  led  the  way  down  a  grand,  sweeping  staircase, 
rich  in  gilding  and  carving,  through  a  paved  and  vaulted  hall, 
«nd  out  into  a  l<>fty  vestibule. 

There  a  woman  stood,  di'ip|>ing  wot  and  wretchedly  clad, 
as  miserable-looking  a  creature  as  ever  walked  the  bad  city 
streets.  Tho  Hare  of  the  gas-jets  shone  full  upon  her — upou 
a  haggard  face  lighted  up  with  two  blazing  eyes, 

*• /or  God's  sake!     Miriam!" 


10 


THE    UNRRKN    llRIDKOROOlf. 


Carl  Walravon  etiirtod  back,  as  if  struck  by  tn  iron  hand. 
1'he  woman  took  a  stop  forward  aiul  confrontod  him. 

"Yes,  Carl  Walravon — Jl^irium!  You  diil  wel  too  come 
at  onco.  1  have  something  to  say  to  you.  8h»ill  1  say  it 
horo?" 

Thiit  was  all  Messrs.  Johnson  and  Wilson  ever  heard,  for 
Mr.  Walravon  opened  the  library  door  and  waved  her  in,  fol- 
lowed, and  shut  the  door  again  with  a  sounding  slam 

'*  Now,  then,"  he  demanded,  imperiously,  *' what  do  you 
want?     I  thought  you  wore  dead  and — " 

"Don't  say  that  oth'  word,  Mr.  Walravon;  it  is  too  for- 
cible. You  only  hopad  it.  I  am  not  dead.  It'b  a  great  deal 
worse  with  me  than  that." 

"  What  uo  you  want?"  Mr.  Walraven  repeated,  steadily, 
though  his  swarth  face  was  dusky  gray  with  race  or  fear,  or 
both.  "  What  do  you  come  here  for  to-night?  lias  the  mas- 
ter you  serve  helped  you  bodily,  that  you  follow  and  llnd  me 
even  here?  Are  you  not  afraid  1  will  throttle  you  for  your 
pains?" 

"Not  the  least." 

She  said  it  with  a  composure  the  best  bred  nf  his  mother's 
guests  could  not  have  surpassed,  standing  bolt  upright  before 
him,  her  dusky  eyes  of  lire  burning  on  his  face. 

"  1  am  not  afraid  of  you,  Mr.  Walraven  (that's  your  name, 
isn't  it? — and  a  very  tine-sounding  name  it  is),  but  you'r^B 
afraid  of  me — afraid  to  the  core  of  your  bitter,  black  heart. 
You  stand  there  dressed  like  a  king,  and  I  stand  here  in  rags 
your  kitchen  scullions  would  scorn;  but  for  all  that,  Carl 
Walraven — for  all  that,  you're  my  slave,  and  you  know  it!" 

Her  eyes  blazed,  her  hands  clinched,  her  gaunt  form  seemed 
to  tower  and  grow  tall  with  the  sense  of  her  triumph  and  her 
l)Ower. 

"  Have  you  anything  else  to  say?"  inquired  Mr.  Walraven, 
sullenly,  "  before  1  call  my  servants  and  have  you  turned 
out?" 

"  You  dare  not,"  retorted  the  woman,  fiercely — "  you  dare 
not,  coward!  boaster!  and  you  know  it!  I  have  a  great  deal 
more  to  say,  and  I  will  say  it,  and  you  will  hear  me  before  we 
part  to-night.  I  know  my  power,  Mr.  Carl  V^alraven,  and  I 
mean  to  use  it.  Do  you  think  1  need  wear  these  rags?  Do 
you  think  I  need  tramp  the  black,  bad  streets,  night  after 
night,  a  homeless,  houf-cless  wretch?  No;  not  if  I  (;hose,  not  if 
I  ordered — do  you  hear? — ordered  my  aristocratic  friend,  Mr. 
Walravon,  of  Fifth  Avenue,  to  empty  his  plethoric  purse  it. 


I. 


TIIK    UNSKKN    IlKIDEfiUOOH. 


11 


iiiy  'lirty  pookot.  Ah,  yes,"  with  a  shrill  laugli,  "  Miriam 
knows  lior  power!" 

"  Are  >o'i  almost  don'?"  Mr.  Walravon  ropliwl,  calmly. 
"  Ilavo  you  come  Ikmo  tor  anything  but  talk?  If  so,  fur 
whnt?" 

*'  Not  your  monov — bo  sure  of  that.  1  would  starvo— I 
would  (]i<^  fill'  (h'ulii  of  ailrtL'  in  a  kt-nnel — bcfoio  I  u-oiild  oat 
a  montiiful  of  bread  bou^dii  with  your  gold.     I  oonic  'or  jus- 

tilX'l" 

".Tustico" — ho  lifted  a  pair  of  aullen,  inriiiii.ng  eyes — 
*'  justice!     To  whom?" 

*'  To  one  whom  you  have  injured  l)eyond  reparation — Mary 
Dane!' 

She  hissed  the  name  in  a  KJiarji,  aibilant  whisper,  and  the 
man  recoiled  as  if  an  adder  had  Htung  him. 

"  What  do  you  mean?"  he  asked,  with  dry,  parched  lips, 
"  Why  do  \ou  come  here  to  torment  mo?  Mary  Dane  is 
dead." 

"  Mary  Dane's  daughter  lives  not  twenty  miles  from  where 
we  stand.  .Justice  to  the  dead  is  beyond  the  power  of  even 
the  wealthy  Carl  Walra\<*n.  .Iustif;e  to  the  living  can  yet  bo 
rendered,  and  shall  be  to  the  uttermost  farthing." 

"What  do  you  want?" 

"  I  want  you  to  find  Mary  Dane,  and  bring  her  here,  edu- 
cate her,  dre.ss  her,  treat  as  your  own  child." 

"  Where  shall  I  lind  her?" 

"  At  K ,  twenty  miles  from  here." 

"  Who  is  she?     What  is  she?" 

"  An  actress,  traveling  about  with  a  strolling  troupe;  an 
actress  since  her  skxth  year — on  the  stage  eleven  years  to- 
night.    This  is  her  seventeenth  birthday,  as  you  know." 

"Is  this  all?" 

*'  All  at  ])re8ent.     Are  you  prepared  to  obey,  or  shall  I — " 

"  There!"  interrupted  Mr.  Walraven,  "  that  will  de. 
There  is  no  7ieed  of  threats,  ]\Iiriani — I  am  very  willing  to 
obey  you  in  this.  If  I  had  known  Mary  Dane — wliy  the  deuce 
did  you  give  her  that  name?^ — was  on  this  continent,  I  would 
have  Imnted  her  up  of  my  own  accord.  1  would,  upon  my 
honor!" 

"  Swear  by  something  you  possess,"  the  woman  said,  with 
a  sneer;  "  honor  you  never  had  since  I  first  knew  you." 

"Come,  come,  iMiriam,"  said  Mr.  Walraven,  uneasily, 
"  don't  bo  cantankerous,  lict  by-goncs  be  by-gones.  I'm 
sorry  for  the  past— 1  am  indeed,  and  am  willing  to  do  well  lor 


12 


THE    UNSEEN    BRIDEGROOM. 


the  future.     Sit  down  and  be  sociable,  and  tell  me  all  about 
it.     ll\jw  camo  you  to  let  the  little  one  go  on  the  stage  first?" 

Miriam  spurned  away  the  protlered  chair. 

*'  I  spurn  it  as  I  would  your  dead  bodv  if  it  lay  before  me, 
Carl  Waliavon!  Hit  down  with  you?  Isever,  if  my  life  de- 
pended on  it!  The  child  became  an  actress  bec:uise  I  could 
keep  her  no  longer — I  couldn't  keep  myself — and  because  she 
had  the  voice  ami  face  of  an  angel — poor  little  wretch!  The 
manager  of  a  band  of  strolling  pla5'ers,  passing  through  our 
village,  heard  her  baby  voice  singing  some  baby  song,  and 
pounced  upon  her  on  the  instant.  We  struck  a  bargain,  and 
I  sold  her,  Mr.  Walraven— yes,  sold  her." 

"  You  wretch!     Well?" 

"  Well,  I  went  to  see  her  occasionally  afterward,  but  not 
often,  for  the  strolling  troupe  were  here,  there,  and  every- 
where— from  pillar  to  post.  But  I  never  lost  sight  of  her, 
and  I  saw  her  grow  up  a  pretty,  slender,  bright-eyed  lass, 
well  dressed,  well  fed,  and  hiippy — j)erfectly  lia[)py  in  her 
wandering  life.  Her  great-grandmother — old  Peter  Daiie's 
wife — was  a  gypsy,  Mr.  Walraven,  and  I  dare  say  the  wild 
blood  broke  out.  She  liked  the  life,  and  became  the  star  of 
the  little  band — the  queen  of  the  troupe.  1  kept  her  in  view 
even  when  she  crossed  the  Atlantic  last  year,  and  paid  her  a 
visit  a  week  ago  to-night." 

"  Humph!"  was  Carl  Walraven's  comment.  "  Well, 
Mistress  Miriam,  it  might  have  been  worse;  no  thanks  to  you, 
though.     And  now — what  does  she  know  of  her  own  story?" 

"Nothing." 

"  What?" 

"  Nothing,  I  tell  you.  Her  name  h  Mary  Dane,  and  she  is 
seventeen  years  old  on  the  twenty-fifth  of  Novombtjr.  Her 
father  and  mother  are  dead — poor  but  honest  people,  of 
course — and  I  am  Aunt  Miriam,  earning  a  respcL'tablo  living 
by  wasliing  clothes  and  scrubbing  fioors.  That  is  what  she 
knows.     How  much  of  that  is  U'ue,  Mr.  Walraven?" 

"  Then  she  never  heard  of  nie?" 

"She  has  never  hud  that  .iiinfortiMie  yet;  it  has  been  re- 
served for  yourself.     You  are  a  rich  man,  and  you  will  go  to 

K ,  and  you  will  see  her  play,  and  will  take  a  fatiey  to 

her,  and  adopt  h(!r  as  your  daughter.     There  is  the  skeleton 
for  you  to  clothe  with  fiesh. " 

"  And  suppose  she  refuses?" 

"  She  will  not  refuse.  She  likes  handsome  dresses  and 
jewelry  as  well  as  any  other  little  fool  of  seventeen.  Yon 
make  her  the  olTer,  and  my  word  for  it,  it  will  be  accepted." 


) 


■ 


THE    rN"SEf:X    BHITIEOnOOM. 


13 


*'  1  will  go,  Miriam.  Upon  my  word  1  feel  curious  to  am 
the  witch.     Who  is  nhv  like,  Miriam — inauinia  or  me?" 

The  womtui'n  eyoH  lld,i?heil  fire. 

"  Xnt,  like  you,  you  son  of  Satunl  If  yhe  was  1  would  have 
f"tr:»«i.^l.:i  h- r  in  hor  cradlol  jjtt  nio  go,  for  the  air  you 
hrcathe!  i!iok(3B  rnol     ])aro  to  disobov  at  your  jicrill" 

"  1  will  Ktart  for  K to-morrow.     tShe  will  be  here — my 

adr)])ted  dau-hter — bi'foru  the  week  ends." 

"Good!  And  thi.s  oM  juother  of  yours,  will  slie  bo  kind 
to  the  girl?    I  won't  have  her  treated  badly,  you  undeistaiid." 

"  My  mother  will  do  whatev^jr  her  son  wi-dies.  She  would 
bo  kind  to  a  young  gonlla  if  1  said  so.  Don't  fear  for  your 
niooe — she  will  be  treated  well." 

"  ]jet  it  be  so,  or  beware!  A  blood-hound  on  your  track 
would  be  less  deadly  than  I!  I  will  be  here  again,  and  yet 
again,  to  sej  for  myself  that  you  keep  your  word." 

She  strode  to  the  door,  opened  it,  and  stood  in  the  illiimi* 
natud  hall.  Johnson  just  had  time  to  vanish  from  the  key- 
liolo  and  no  more.  Down  the  stair-way  pealed  the  wild,  mel- 
ancholy music  of  a  German  waltz;  from  the  dining-room 
came  the  clink  and  jingle  of  silver,  and  china,  and  glass. 
The  woman's  haggard  face  filled  with  scorn  and  bitterness  as 
she  gave  one  fleeting,  backward  glance. 

'•  'J'hey  say  there  is  a  just  and  avenging  Heaven,  yet  Carl 
Walraven  is  master  of  all  this.  Wealth,  love,  and  honor  for 
him,  and  a  nameless  grave  for  her;  the  streets,  foul  and 
deadly,  for  me.  The  mill  of  the  gods  may  grind  sure,  but  it 
grinds  fearfully  slow — fearfully  slow!" 

I'hey  were  the  last  words  Oarl  Walraven  heard  her  utti  r. 
She  opened  the  hou=o  door,  gathered  her  t'  .ulbare  shawl 
doaer  around  her,  and  fluttered  away  in  the  wiid,  wet  night. 


> 


ClIAPTEli   II. 


"  CRICKET." 


The  little  provincial  theater  was  crowded  from  pit  to  dome 
—  long  tiers  of  changing  faces  and  luminous  eyes.  There  was 
a  prevalent  odor  of  stale  tobacco,  and  orange-peel,  and  bad 
gas;  and  there  was  bustle,  and  Jioise,  and  laughter,  and  a 
harsh  coUeotiou  of  stringed  instruments  grinding  out  the  over- 
hire. 

'i'here  were  stamps  and  calls  for  the  tawdry  curtain  to  rise, 
when  a  gentleman  entered,  saunterrd  u})  to  a  front  seat,  took 
up  a  bill  and  began  to  read  it-— a  tall,  middle-aged,  rather  dis- 


14 


THE    UXPEEX    BRIDEfJKOOM. 


tinji;iii8lu:d-lookinr!;  num.  blimk  and  bnardail,  with  pieroiug 
eyes,  superliwc  elolhes,  and  a  general  aiisLorraLic  air  about 
him. 

P'eo|)le  })aiisnd  to  look  again  at  bin) — for  be  was  a  stranger 
there — but  nobody  ivoognizHil  him,  and  Mr.  Carl  Wulraveu 
read  his  bill  undisturbiMl. 

The  play  was  "  Janehon  the  C'rii^ket,"  and  the  bill  an- 
nounced, in  very  big  c'ai)itals,  that  the  part  of  l-'anchon  was 
to  be  playtd  by  that  "distinguished  and  beautiful  young 
English  actress,  Miss  iMollie  Dane." 

Mr.  "Walraven  saw  no  more;  he  sat  holding  the  strip  of 
paper  before  him,  and  staring  at  the  one  name  as  if  the  fat 
letters  fascinated  him—"  Fanchon,  ]\Iiss  MoUie  Dane," 

A  shrill-voiced  bell  tinkled,  ami  Ihj  drop-curtain  went  up, 
and  the  household  of  l''ather  Barbeaud  was  revealed.  There 
was  a  general  settling  into  seats,  hats  ilevv  oif,  the  noises  ceased, 
and  the  play  began. 

A  moment  or  two,  and,  in  rags  and  tatters,  hair  streaming, 
and  feet  bare,  on  the  stage  bounded  Fanchon,  the  Cricket. 

There  was  an  uproarious  greeting.  E\idently  it  was  not 
Miss  Dane's  first  appearance  before  that  audience,  and  still 
more  evidently  she  was  a  prime  favorite. 

Mr.  Walraven  dropped  his  bill,  poised  his  lorgnette,  and 
prepared  to  stare  his  fill. 

She  was  very  well  worth  looking  at,  this  clear-voiced  Mollie 
Dane — through  the  tatters  and  unkempt  hair  lie  could  see  that. 
The  stars  in  the  frosty  November  sky  without  were  not 
brighter  than  her  d:i'-i<,  bright  eyes;  no  silvery  music  that  the 
heir  of  all  the  A\'alravejis  had  ever  heard  was  clearer  or 
sweeter  than  her  free,  girlish  laugh;  no  golden  sunbinst  ever 
more  beautiful  tliati  the  waving  banner  of  wikl,  yellow  hair. 
Molho  J)ane  stood  before  him  a  beauty  born. 

Kvery  nerve  in  ('arl  Walraven's  body  thrilled  as  he  looki^d 
at  her.  How  lovely  that  face!  llow  sweet  that  voice,  that 
laugh!     How  eminently  well  she  acted! 

He  had  seen  women  of  whom  the  world  raved  play  that 
Tery  part;  but  he  had  never,  no,  never  seen  it  better  ])lay('d 
than  ho  saw  it  to-night. 

"  She  will  make  the  world  ring  with  her  name  if  she  ad- 
lieres  to  the  stagey"  Carl  Walraven  said  to  himself,  enthusi- 
astically; "and  she  never  will  play  anything  better  than  she 
jilays  the  'Cricket.*  She  is  l-'anchon  herself — saucy,  daring, 
generous,  irresistible  Fanchon!  And  she  is  beautiful  as  the 
angels  above. " 

The  ])lay  went  on;  Fanchon  danced,  and  sobbed,  and  sung, 


THE    UNSEEN    BRIDEGROOM. 


16 


J 


and  wopt,  and  was  rnischiovous  as  a  scrutohing  kitten,  and 
gentle  as  a  tiittlp-dovo;  took  all  the  hearts  by  storm,  and  was 
triiimphandy  reuiiiti'd  to  lier  lover  at  hist. 

T  don't  know  how  iniiny  yonng  men  in  tliat  audience  were 
left  without  an  atom  oi  heart,  how  many  would  hi.ve  given 
their  two  cars  to  be  in  handsome  Landry  IJarboaud's  boots. 

The  roof  nearly  rose  with  the  thunders  of  applause  wlien 
llie  curtain  fell,  and  (!arl  Walraven  got  up  with  tlie  rest,  his 
head  whirling,  his  brain  dizzy. 

"  (rood  Heaven!"  he  thought,  stumbling  along  the  dark, 
chilly  streets  to  his  hotel,  "  what  a  perfectly  dazzling  little 
witcii  she  is  I  Was  there  ever  sucii  another  s])arkling,  bewil- 
dering little  fairy  in  the  world  before?" 

Mr.  Walraven  spent  the  night  in  a  fe\er  of  impatience. 
Tie  was  one  of  those  men  who,  when  they  set.  their  hearts  on 
anything,  tiiid  no  peace,  no  rest,  until  they  obtain  it.  lie  had 
come  hero  partly  tlirough  curiosity,  partly  because  he  dare  not 
refuse  Miriaiu;  iie  had  seen  Mary  Dane,  and  lol  at  first  sight 
he  was  dazzled  and  bewitched. 

Next  morning,  at  breakfast,  Mr.  Walraven  obtained  all  the 
information  ho  de;-;ired  concerning  Miss  Mollie  Dane.  Home 
halt  dozen  of  the  actors  were  stopping  at  the  hotel,  and  j)roved 
very  willing,  under  the  inlluonce  of  brandy  and  water,  to  give 
the  free-handed  stranger  Miss  Dane's  biograj)hy  as  far  as  they 
know  it. 

8ho  was  just  as  charming  olT  the  stage  as  on;  just  as  pretty, 
just  as  saucy,  just  as  captivating.  ISho  was  wild  and  full  of 
tricks  as  an  unbroken  colt;  but  she  was  a  thoroughly  good 
girl,  for  all  that,  lavish  of  her  money  to  all  who  needed,  and 
snul)bing  lovers  incontineiitly,  8he  was  stopping  up  the 
street  at  another  hotel,  and  she  would  in  all  probability  be 
easily  accessible  al)out  noon. 

Tho  seedy,  stroUitig  players  drank  their  diluted  brandy, 
iSnioked  their  cigars,  and  cold  Mr.  Walraven  all  this.  They 
ratlier  laughed  at  the  New  ^'ork  millionaire  when  ho  was  out 
of  sight.  He  had  fallen  in  love  with  pretty,  blue-eyed  Mollie, 
no  doul)t,  and  that  was  a  very  stale  story  with  the  shabby 
])layers. 

Noon  came,  and,  spcckless  and  respectable  to  the  last  de- 
grco,  Mr.  Walraven  presented  himself  at  tho  other  hotel,  and 
sent  up  his  card  with  a  waiter  to  Miss  Dane. 

The  waiter  ti.^hereil  Inui  into  the  hotel  parlor,  cold  and  prim 
ria  it  is  in  the  nature  <»|  liotel  parlors  t(>  be.  Mr.  Walraven  eat 
down  and  stared  vaguely  at  the  papered  walls,  rather  at  a  loss 


IS 


THE    UNSEEN    BRIDEGROOM. 


as  to  what  ho  should  say  to  this  piquant  MoIIie,  and  wonder- 
ing how  he  would  feel  if  she  laughed  at  him. 

"  And  (?he  will  laugh,"  he  thought,  with  a  mental  groan; 
"  she's  the  sort  of  girl  that  laughs  at  everything.  And  she 
may  refuse,  too;  there  is  no  making  sure  of  a  woman;  and 
then  what  will  Miriam  say?" 

He  paused  with  a  gasp.  There  was  a  quick  patter  of  light 
feet  down  the  stairs,  the  last  two  cleared  with  a  jump,  a  swish 
of  silken  skirts,  a  little  gush  of  perfume,  and  then,  bright  as 
a  flash  of  light,  blue-eyed  MoHie  stood  before  him.  She  held 
his  card  in  her  fingers,  and  all  the  yellow  hair  fell  over  her 
plump  shoulders,  like  amber  sunshine  over  snow. 

"  Mr.  Carl  Walraven?"  Miss  Dane  said,  with  a  smilo  and  a 
graceful  little  bow. 

Mr.  Carl  Walraven  rose  up  and  returned  that  pretty  court- 
CBV  with  a  salute  still  and  constrained. 

'"Yes,  Miss  Dane." 

"  Pray  resume  your  seat,  Mr.  Walraven,"  with  an  uiry 
wave  of  a  little  white  hand.     "  To  what  do  I  owe  this  visit?" 

She  fluttered  into  a  big  black  arm-chair  as  she  spoke,  folded 
the  little  white  hands,  and  glanced  across  with  brightly  ex- 
pectant eyes. 

"  You  must  think  this  call,  from  an  utter  stranger,  rather 
singular.  Miss  Dane,"  Mr.  Walraven  began,  considerably  at  n 
loss. 

Miss  Dane  laughed. 

"  Oh,  dear,  no!  not  at  all — the  sort  of  thing  I  am  used  to, 
I  assure  youl    May  1  ask  its  purport?" 

*'  Miss  Dane,  you  must  parilon  me,"  said  Mr.  Walraven, 
plunging  desperately  head  first  into  his  mission,  "  but  I  saw 
you  play  last  night,  and  I  have — yes,  1  have  taken  a  violent 
fancy  to  you." 

Miss  Mullie  Dane  never  flinched.  The  wicked  sparkle  in 
the  dancing  eyes  grew  a  trifle  wickeder,  perhaps,  but  that  was 
all. 

'*  Yes,"  she  said,  composedly;  '*  go  on." 

'*  You  take  it  very  coolly,"  remarked  the  gentleman,  rather 
taken  aback  himself.  "  You  don't  appear  the  least  sur- 
prised." 

"  Of  course  not!  I  told  you  I  was  used  to  it.  Never  knew 
a  gentleman  of  taste  to  see  mo  play  yet  and  not  take  a  violent 
fancy  to  me.     Pray  goon." 

If  Miss  Dane  wislied,  in  her  wickedness,  to  utterly  discon- 
eert  her  middle-aged  atlminr,  she  could  not  have  adopted  a 


1 


THE    L'KRSEN    BRIDEGROOM. 


17 


f 


surer  plun.  For  fully  live  minutes  he  sat  staring  in  hopeless 
Bilencft. 

"  Have  you  anything  more  to  eay?'*  queried  the  dauntless 
Mollie,  pulling  out  her  watrih.  "  Because,  if  you  have,  you 
will  [tlease  say  it  at  once.  My  time  is  precious,  I  assure  yoa 
Kelioarsal  is  at  thrt'e,  and  after  rehearsal  there  are  the 
spangles  to  sew  on  my  dress,  and  after  that — " 

"  1  beg  your  pardon,  Miss  Dane;  I  have  a  great  deal  more 
to  say,  and  if  you  vvdl  listen  you  need  never  attend  rehearsal 
again,  and  never  sow  on  spangles  any  more." 

"  Indeed!" 

Tlie  blue  eyes  opened  very  wide  in  a  fixed,  unwinking 
stare. 

"  I  like  you  very  much.  Miss  Dane — so  much  that  I  think 
it  is  a  thousand  jiities  you  should  waste  your  youth,  and 
beauty,  and  gi'iiius  on  desert  air.     80 — " 

"  i'es,"  said  Miss  Dane — "  so  you  have  fallen  in  love  with 
me  at  first  sight.     Is  that  what  you  are  trying  to  say?" 

"  Xol"  responded  Mr.  Walraven,  emphatically.  "  I  am 
not  in  the  least  in  love  with  you,  and  never  mean  to  be — .a 
that  way." 

"  Oh,  in  what  way,  then,  Mr.  Walraven?" 

"  I  am  a  rich  man.  Miss  Dane,  and  a  lonely  man  very 
often,  and  I  should  like  to  have  a  daughter  to  cheer  my  old 
age — a  daughter  like  you,  Mistress  Cricket,  saucy  and  bright, 
and  so  pretty  that  it  will  be  a  jileasure  only  to  look  at  her." 

"And  a  very  complimentary  papa  you  will  make.  Have 
you  no  daughters  of  your  own,  Mr.  Walraven?" 

"  None,  Miss  Mollie.  1  have  the  misfortune  to  have  no 
wife." 

And  never  mean  to  have?" 

•^^  Can't  say  about  that.     I  may  one  day." 

"And  you  are  quite  sure  you  will  never  want  mo  to  fill  that 
Taeant  honor?" 

"  Surer  than  sure,  my  dear  little  girl.  I  want  you  only  for 
my  adopted  daughter." 

"  And  you  nevur  saw  me  before  last  night?" 

"  Never,"  said  Carl  Walraven,  unflinchingly. 

"  You  are  a  very  ricdi  man,  you  say?" 

"  Very  rich — a  millionaire— and  you  shall  be  my  heiress 
when  I  die." 

"  1  am  afraid  1  shall  be  a  very  lonr^  time  out  of  my  inherit- 
anoo,  then.  Well,  this  is  a  surpi'ise,  and  you  are  the  oddest 
gentleman  1  have  met  for  some  time.    Please  let  mo  catch  my 


18 


THE    UNSEEN    URIDEGKOOM. 


breath!    You  are  quite  certain  you  are  not  ])Iiiyiiig  a  jiructioal 


joke  at  my  expense  all  this  timi 


.V" 


I   im-an  precisely 


"  No!  upon  my  word  ami  honor,  no! 
what  I  say." 

"  And  8ui)po6ing  I  say  yes — su])posing  1  agree  to  go  with 
you,  for  the  inn  of  the  thing,  what  do  you  mean  to  do  with 
mo,  Mr.  Wal raven?" 

"  To  treat  you  as  I  would  a  Miss  Wal raven  of  seventeen 
years  old,  if  there  were  such  a  person;  to  fill  your  pockets  with 
money,  and  your  wardrobe  with  fine  clothes;  to  give  you  a 
horse  to  ride,  and  a  piano  to  [^iay,  a  carriage  to  drive  in,  and 
a  waiting-maid  to  scold.  What  more  can  1  do?  1  will  give 
you  masters  to  teach  you  everything  under  the  sun.  IJalls, 
parties,  and  the  opera  at  will — everything,  in  short,  your 
heart  can  desire." 

The  starry  eyes  sparkled,  the  rose-tinted  cheeks  ilushed  with 
delight. 

"  I  can  not  believe  it;  it  is  too  good  to  be  true.  Oh,  you 
oan't  mean  it,  Mr.  Walravr/i.  No  ono  ever  had  their  wildest 
flight  of  fancy  realized  in  this  manner." 

"  You  shall  if  you  will  become  my  daughter.  If  my 
promise  proves  false,  are  you  not  free  to  return?  There  are 
no  ogres  nowadays  to  carry  young  ladies  off  to  enchanted 

Palaces  and  eat  them.     Come  with  me  to  my  home  in  New 
"ork.     If  I  fail  in  aught  1  have  jjromiaed,  why,  return  here." 
MoUie  brought  her  two  little  palms  togetlier  with  an  enthu- 
siastic slap. 

"  I'll  do  it,  Mr.  Walraven!  I  know  it's  all  a  dream  and  an 
illusion,  but  still  I'll  see  the  dream  to  the  end;  that  is,  if  you 
can  make  it  all  right  with  Mr.  Ilarkner,  the  mamiger. " 

"  I  can  make  it  all  rightl"  exclaimed  Mr.  Walraven. 
"  Money  can  do  anything  under  the  sun.  lie  has  his  price, 
like  other  men,  and  I  can  pay  it.  If  Mr.  Ilarkner  and  I  come 
to  terms,  will  you  be  ready  to  start  with  mo  to-morrow, 
Mollie?" 

"  Quite  ready.  But  you  won't  make  it  right.  Ho  will 
never  let  me  go;  you  will  see." 

"  I  am  not  afraid.  I  will  call  upon  him  at  once,  and  after 
the  interview  I  will  let  you  know  the  result.  lie  is  in  the 
hoose  now,  is  ho  not?" 

"  Down  at  the  bar,  very  likely.     I  will  wait  for  you  here." 

Mr.  Walraven  took  his  hat  and  left,  delighted  with  his  suc- 
cess. 

The  manager  was  at  the  bur,  as  Miss  Dane  had  predicted. 


he 


I 


THE    UNSEEN    I!RIDEGROOM. 


H» 


and  eyed  Mr.  Wulriiveii  suspiciously  from  liead  to  foot  whoii 
ho  foiiiid  liis  husine.ss  concerned  his  star  actress. 

lie  was  accustomed  to  gentlemen  fallin^r  in  love  with  lior, 
and  <|uite  willing  to  t;ike  lilLlo  bribes  I'rom  tliem;  but  lie 
stared  in  an}j;ry  amazement  when  he  heard  what  Carl  Wal- 
raven  liad  to  say. 

*' Carry  olT  Mollie!"  cxchiimod  Mr.  llarkner,  "and  ado])t 
her  as  your  daughterl  What  do  you  taivc  me  for,  to  believe 
such  a  story  as  that?" 

Mr.  Harkner  was  pretty  far  gone,  and  all  the  more  inclined 
to  be  skeptical.  Mr.  Walraven  saw  it,  and  kiiew  that  appear- 
ances were  dead  against  him,  and  s)  swallowed  his  wratli. 

"  It  is  the  truth,  upon  my  honor.  A[iss])ano  believes  me 
and  has  consented.  Nothing  remains  but  to  settle  matters 
with  you." 

"  I  v/on't  settle  matters!  I  won't  liear  of  it!  1  won't  })art 
with  mv  best  aci-resa!" 

**  Yes  you  will  for  u  fair  price.  Come,  name  the  sum; 
rili)ay  it." 

Mr.  llarkner  ojjcned  his  eyes.  Mr.  walraven  opened  hia 
check -book. 

"  Vou  do  mean  it,  then?" 

"  Don't  1  look  as  if  1  meant  it?  Quick,  I  say!  If  you 
don't  look  sharj)  I  will  take  her  without  any  price!" 

"  She's  a  priceless  treas^urc!"  hiccoughed  the  numager — 
"  worth  her  weight  in  gold  to  me,  and  so — '' 

Ho  named  a  sum  that  made  even  Carl  Walraven  wince;  but 
ho  was  a  great  ileal  too  reckless  to  ilraw  back. 

"  It  is  a  most  cold-blooded  extortion,"  he  said;  "  but  you 
shall  have  it.  And  at  your  jn-ril  you  ever  interfere  with  my 
adopted  daughter  afterward." 

J  to  signed  the  check  and  Hung  it  to  the  nuinager,  turned 
and  went  out,  and  left  that  individual  staring  in  blank  be- 
wilderment. 

(iolden-haired  Molliu  wa^  pacing  impatiently  up  and  dowE 
the  parlor  when  Mr.  Walraven  walked  in  again,  his  face  aglow 
with  triumph. 

"It  is  all  right,  Mollio.  1  told  you  1  was  more  than  a 
match  for  your  manager,  ^'ou  have  trotl  the  boards  for  the 
last  time. " 

"  Excuse  me,  ]\Ir.  Walraven;  I  am  going  to  tread  the 
boards  again  to-night.  It  is  Cricket  still.  Don't  you  want  to 
be  enchanted  once  more?" 

"  Just  us  you  pleaue.     Once  is  neither  here  now  there. 


RJ 


90 


THE    UNSEEN    l^RIDKCROOM. 


]iut  you  will  bo  ro;uly  for  the  ciirht  a.  ^i.  train  to-morrour^ 
Mollie?" 

"  [  have  pvomisc'd,  Mv.  Wiilr;iven,  aiul  1  always  keep  my 
word.  So  Mr.  iltirktier  lias  consirittil?  Kovv,  that  is  not 
flattering,  is  it?  What  winning:  ways  you  must  possess  to 
make  all  the  worl<l  do  as  you  siiyl" 

Mr.  Wah-aveu  held  up  his  jnirse,  gold  shining  tiirough  its 
silken  meshes. 

"  IJehold  the  niiigie  key  to  every  heart.  Cricket  I  Here, 
you  shall  be  my  purse-l)euiei-  now." 

lie  tossed  if.  into  htr  lap.  Mollie's  blue  eyos  sparkled. 
She  was  only  seventeen,  poor  child,  and  she  liked  money  for 
what  money  brouuht. 

"  I  shall  leave  yuu  now,"  Mr.  Walraven  said,  looking  at  his 
watch.  '*  Three  o'click,  Mollie,  and  time  for  rehearsal.  I 
shall  go  and  see  Cricket  to-night,  and  to-morrow  morning 
('rick  t  must  bo  ready  to  go  with  me.  Until  then,  my 
adopted  daughter,  adieu!" 

That  night,  when  the  green  curtain  went  up,  the  strange 
gentleman  sat  in  the  front  seat  for  the  second  time,  and  gazed 
on  the  antics  of  Fanchon,  the  Cricket. 

The  girl  played  it  well.,  because  she  ])layed  her  own  willful, 
tricky  self,  and  she  kissed  her  taper  lingers  to  the  enraptured 
audience,  and  felt  sorry  to  think  it  might  be  for  the  last  time. 

Next  morning,  as  demure  as  a  little  nun,  in  her  traveling 
suit  of  gray,  Miss  Cricket  took  her  seat  beside  her  new-mado 
guardian,  and  was  whirled  away  to  Kew  York. 

"  Pray,  what  am  I  to  call  you?"  she  asked,  as  they  sat  side 
by  side.  "  Am  1  to  kt-ep  at  a  respectful  distance,  and  say 
'  Mr.  Walravcn,'  or,  as  1  am  your  adopted  daughter,  is  it  to 
be  papa?" 

"  Well,  Cricket,  personally  1  have  no  objection,  of  course; 
but,  then,  '  papa  ' — don't  you  think  '  papa  '  might  set  people 
asking  qncstions,  now?" 

"  Very  true;  and  some  clever  person  might  get  investigat- 
ing, and  iind  out  you  w(!re  my  papa  in  reality." 

"  Molliol"  said  Mr.  Walraven,  wincir)g. 

"  That's  the  way  in  the  melodramas,  ^-ou  seo,  and  you  are 
very  liKe  the  hero  of  a  iive-act  melodrama.  W^ell,  Mr.  Wal- 
raven, decide  what  I  shall  call  youl" 

"  Suppose  you  say  guardian.  That  will  hit  the  mark,  1 
think.  And  we  will  tell  people  who  ask  trnublesome  questions 
that  you  are  the  orphan  daughter  of  a  dead  cousin  of  mine. 
What  do  you  say?'' 

*'  As  you  please,  of  course.     It  ia  all  one  to  me." 


I 


I 


THE    UNSEEN    BRIDEGliOOr. 


SI 


Tho  train  thundcrotl  into  the  depot  presently,  and  there  wus 
the  uau'cil  turmoil  and  uproar.  Mr.  VVainiven  called  a  cub, 
and  half  an  hour's  rattling;  over  the  stony  streets  brought 
thoni  to  the  Wal  raven  niansion- 

Mollio  J)aiie,  accustomed  all  her  life  to  dincjy  liotels  and 
lodgings,  glanced  up  at  the  grand  staircase  and  imposing  hall 
in  rapturous  surprise.  Mme.  Walraven  stood  graciously  wait- 
ing to  receive  her. 

"  Hero's  a  granddaughter  for  you,  motlier,"  said  Mr.  Wal- 
raven— *'  a  companion  to  cheer  and  brighten  your  future  life. 
My  adopted  daughter — Mollio  Dane." 

Tho  stately  old  lady  bent  and  kissed  tho  bright,  frosh  face. 

"  I  atn  very  happy  to  welcome  you,  my  dc^ar,  and  will  try 
heartily  to  make  your  new  homo  plca^^ant.  You  are  tired,  of 
course?     Here,  Margaret,  show  Miss  J)ane  to  her  room." 

A  spiune  waiting-maid  appeared  at  the  eld  lady's  summons, 
and  led  Miss  Dane,  through  carpL'tcd  corridors,  into  the  dain- 
tiest of  dainty  bed-chambers,  all  blue  silk  and  white  lace  dra- 
pery, and  rich  furniture,  and  exquisite  jjictures. 

In  all  her  life  long,  Mollie  hail  never  beheld  anything  half 
so  beautiful,  and  she  caught  her  breath  with  one  little  cry  of 
delight. 

"  Shall  I  help  you,  miss?"  very  respectfully  asked  the  girl. 
"  I'm  to  be  your  maid,  please,  and  luncheon  will  bo  reatly  by 
the  time  you  aro  dressed." 

Miss  Dane  permitted  her  to  remove  her  traveling-dress  in 
ecstatic  silence,  and  robo  her  in  azure  silk,  just  a  shade  less 
blue  than  her  eyes. 

Very,  very  pretty  she  looked,  with  all  nor  loose  golden  ring- 
lets, and  that  brilliant  flush  on  either  cheek;  and  so  Mrs. 
Walraven  and  her  son  thought  when  she  appeared,  hke  a  radi- 
ant vision,  in  the  dining-room. 

The  afternoon  and  evening  went  like  a  swift  dream  of  de- 
light in  viewing  the  house  and  its  splendors.  She  retired 
early,  with  a  kiss  from  guardian  and  grandmamma,  her  head 
in  a  whirl  with  the  events  of  the  day. 

Margaret's  tasks  were  very  light  that  night:  her  little  mis- 
tress did  not  detain  her  ten  minutes.  When  she  had  gone, 
and  she  was  fairly  alone,  Mollie  sprung  up  and  went  whirling 
round  tho  room  in  a  dance  of  delight, 

"  To  think  of  iti"  aho  cried—"  to  think  all  my  wildest 
dreams  should  come  true  like  this,  and  my  life  go  on  like  a 
fairy  tale!  There  is  Mr.  Walravon,  tho  good  genii  of  tho 
story,  Mrs.  Walravon,  tho  old  but  well-meaning  fairy  god- 
mother; and  I'm  Cinderella,  with  tho  tatters  and  rags  turned 


fix 


TiiK    (NS-KKN    r.!;i!;i;';ii()(.)M. 


toolotli  fif  ,'f;M.  and  iinl.hinj^  t.;>  d)  but  wuit  iifc  my  oiisR  for 
tiie  fui'-y  pritici',  jiud  niitrry  him  wIumi  li  •  <  'iino.  (.'ricketl 
('rickiitl  you'ro  tliu  lunkiost  wituh'a  grandiliiii|jlitor  Lhut  ever 
tlancud  to  her  own  shiulow!" 


I 


MR. 


ClIAPTElt   III. 

WALUAVKNf's    WKDOINO. 


Moi.MK  l)AiVK  miido  htjrsolf  vdry  much  at  hotno  ut  oiioo  in 
till!  nj;i;fiiilicc'iit  W'uli'uvcn  niiinsioii.  'J'lio  diiz/,l.»  of  its  {^'lories 
scarnciv  lasted  beyoiul  the  first  (hiy,  or,  if  it  did,  nobody  saw 
it.  Why,  indeed,  slioiild  blio  bo  daz/dedi'  !^\\o,  who  liad  been 
Lady  Macbeth,  and  received  the  Tluino  of  (!awdor  at  her  own 
{^^ates;  who  had  been  Juliet,  the  heiress  of  a'!  the  Capiilets; 
who  had  seen  dukes  and  nobles  snubbed  unmercifully  every 
ni^Tjht  of  her  life  by  virtuous  poverty,  on  tlu;  stage.  Jiefore 
the  end  of  the  first  week  MoiJio  had  boiiome  the  light  of  tho 
hoiiHO,  perfectly  indispensable  to  t!ie  happiness  of  its  inmates. 

Miss  Dane  was  lanmhei!  into  society  at  a  dinner-party  given 
for  the  express  purj)o;i'  by  "  grandmamma. ''  Wondrously 
pretty  looked  the  youthful  ilcliiildnk,  in  silvery  silk  and  misty 
lii(!e  and  pearls,  her  eyes  like  blue  stars,  her  cheeks  like  June 
rosea. 

In  the  wintery  dusk  of  tlie  sliort  December  days,  Mrs.  Wal- 
raven  received  lier  guests  in  the  library,  an  imposing  room, 
oak-paneled,  crimson-draped,  and  filled  from  floor  to  ceiling 
with  a  noble  collec^tion  of  books.  (Jreat  snow-flakes  lluttered 
against  the  phite  glass,  and  an  icy  blast  howled  up  the  avenue, 
but  in  the  glittering  dining-room  flowers  bloomed,  and  birds 
sung,  and  tropical  fruits  perfumed  the  air;  and  radiant  under 
the  gas-light,  beautiful  Miss  Dane  llaahed  the  light  of  her  blue 
eyes,  and  looked  like  some  lovely  little  sprite  from  fairy-land. 

Miss  Blanche  Oleamler,  darkly  majestic  in  maize  silk  and 
jewels,  sat  at  Miss  Dane's  right  hand,  and  eyed  her  coldly 
with  jealous  dislike.  Mollio  read  her  through  at  the  first 
glance. 

"She  hates  mo  already,"  thought  Mr.  Walraven's  ward; 
■'  and  your  tall  women,  with  flashing  black  eyes  and  blue- 
black  hair,  arc;  apt  to  be  good  haters.  Very  well,  Miss 
Oleander;  it  shall  be  just  as  you  like." 

A  gentleman  sat  on  her  other  hand — a  handsome  young  art- 
ist— Mr.  Hugh  Ingelow,  and  ho  listened  with  an  attentive 
face,  while  she  held  her  own  with  the  sarcastic  Blanche,  and 
rather  got  the  best  of  the  battle. 


t, 


for 

rki-t! 

cvi-r 


THE    UNSERN     lUil  KKfi  liOOM. 


23 


*' Tlio  lil.tlt'  Itnmitv  'i-\  no  iIiimcc,"  (limi'^Iif,  Mr.  ]\'.\i/]\  [iii'c- 
low.  "  Miri:i  l')lmi<'lio  hua  fouud  u  foe  worthy  of  ln'i  Imi'L 
iitaol." 

And  doiriiiif:  to  tlii.4  coiioliision,  Mr.  Ingolow  irnrntilijihlv 
he^'ari  nuikin!,'  hiniHclf  ji^rcouhlu  to  hit;  fair  iiciylibor.  .\Jis.4 
Ok'UD'lor  was  n  |»et  aversion  of  liis  own,  and  this  bond  of  utiiiyu 
drew  liini  and  liur  sauey  little  antii!,'onist  toj^'etber  at  oiici". 

"  Katlier  a  siuir])  set-to,  Misti  l)ane,"  the  artist  remarked, 
in  iiis  lazy  voice.  *'  Mm  Olearnlc  r  is  a  clever  woman,  but.  vjic 
iri  mat(!hed  at  hist.  I  wonder  why  it  is?  You  two  ougln  io 
be  j;ood  friends." 

Jle  ghmeed  significantly  at  Mr.  "VValravon,  dovoting  himsflf 
to  Miss  Oleander,  and  Mollie  gave  lier  white  shoulders  a  little 
shrng. 

"  If  we  ought,  we  never  will  bo.  Coming  events  cast  their 
shadows  before,  and  I  know  I  bhull  detest  a  guardianess. 
Who  is  that  brigandish-looking  gentleman  over  there,  Mr. 
Ingclow?  lie  has  been  staring  at  mo  steadily  for  the  last  ten 
minutes.'' 

"  Lost  in  speechless  admiration,  no  doubt.  That  gentle- 
man is  the  celebrated  Doctor  Oleander,  own  cousin  to  the  fair 
Blanche. " 

The  gentleman  in  question  certainly  was  staring,  but  his 
staring  was  intorru2)ted  at  this  moment  by  a  general  uprising 
and  retreat  to  the  drawing-room.  Mr.  Ingelow,  on  who;fe 
arm  she  leaned,  led  htjr  to  the  piano  at  once. 

"  You  sing,  I  know — Mrs.  Walraven  lias  told  me.  Pray 
favor  lis  witii  one  song  before  some  less  gifted  performer 
secures  this  vacant  seat." 

"  What  shall  it  be?"  Mollie  asked,  running  her  white 
lingers  over  the  keys. 

"  Whatever  you  please — whatever  you  like  best.  I  shall  bo 
sure  to  like  it." 

j*lollie  sung  brilliantly,  ami  sung  her  best  now.  There  \fas 
dead  silence;  no  one  had  expected  such  a  glorious  voice  as 
this.  Hugh  Ingelovv's  rapt  face  showed  what  he  felt  as  Mollie 
rose. 

"  Miss  Dane  ought  to  go  upon  the  stage;  she  would  make 
her  fortune,"  said  a  deep  voice  at  her  elbow. 

She  turned  sharply  round,  and.  met  the  dark,  sinister  eyes 
and  ])ale  face  of  Dr.  Oleander. 

"  Miss  Dane  foigets  mc"  lie  siiid,  with  a  low  bow,  "  among 
so  manv  presentations.  Will  you  kindly  reintroduce  me,  Mr. 
Ingeluw?" 

Mr.  lugelow  obeyed  with  uo  very  good  grace;  the  sparkling. 


2i 


Tim     UNSEEN     HltlDEOnOOM. 


blne-oyeil  cuqutUi!  luid  mado  wild  work  with  hia  Jirtisl  lioart 
alrfiady. 

"  Mrrf.  Walmven  do'urt'il  ine  to  brlnjT  you  to  licr  for  a  mo- 
ment," the  suave  doctor  and,  otit'riiiij  lii.'i  iiruj.  "  May  1  luivo 
the  honor?" 

Mr.  Inf<elow'n  eyes  ilasluul  an^jrilv,  anil  Mollio,  solIiil,'  it, 
nnd  boiiij;  a  bom  ooqiiottL'.  took  tlio  |)roircriil  >\vn\  al.  otict!. 

It  was  tht!  niereiit  trille  grandnKwnina  wantt'd,  but  it  ^ei  vfd 
the  doctor's  turn — iio  iuui  got  tho  b^auLy  of  l])u  ovciiing,  and 
he  tnoaot  to  keep  iier. 

Mollio  listencil  to  his  endless  How  of  coniplimentary  small- 
talk  just  as  long  a^i  she  chose,  ami  then  glidi d  ooollv  invay  to 
flirt  with  a  third  adorer,  tho  eminent  young  lawyer,  Mr.  Joseph 
Sardoiiy:^. 

Mollio  hovered  between  those  throo  tho  livelong  evening; 
now  it  was  the  haml,«ome  ai-list,  now  tho  polished  doctor,  now 
tho  witty,  satirical  lawyer,  flirting  in  tho  most  nnpardoiuiblo 
manner. 

Even  Mr.  Walraven  w^is  a  little  shocked,  and  undertook,  in 
tho  course  of  the  evening,  to  expostulate. 

'*  Flirtit)g  is  all  very  well,  Mollie,"  ho  said,  "  but  it  really 
mustn't  be  carried  too  fur.  People  are  bi'ginning  to  make  re- 
marks." 

"  Are  they?"  said  Mollie;  "  about  which  of  us,  pray?  for 
really  and  truly,  guardy,  you  have  been  flirting  the  worst  of 
the  two." 

"  Nonsense,  Mollie!  You  mean  Miss  Oleander,  1  suppose? 
That  is  no  flirtation." 

"  Indeed!  then  it  is  worse—it  is  serious?" 

"  Yes,  if  asking  iier  to  marry  mo  bo  serious.  And  she  has 
said  ye?,  Mollie." 

Miss  Dane  looked  at  him  compassionately. 

*'  You  poor,  unfortunate  guardy!  And  you  are  really  going 
to  marry  IJlanche  Oleandir!  W'dl,  one  comfort  is,  you  wiil 
be  ready  to  blow  your  brains  out  six  months  after;  and  serve 
you  right,  too!  Don't  let  us  taltv  about  it  to-night.  I  am 
sorry  for  you,  and  if  you  have  any  sense  left  you  will  soon  bo 
sorry  for  yourself.  Here  comes  Doctor  Oleander,  and  I  mean 
to  be  as  fascinating  as  I  know  how,  just  to  drive  the  other  two 
to  the  verge  of  madnes^s. " 

She  danced  awav,  leaving  Mr.  Walraveu  i)u]Iiiig  his  mus- 
tache, a  picture  of  helpltcs  perfilexit}'. 

"  I  wonder  if  1  have  put  r.iy  foot  in  it?"  he  (botigbt,  as  ho 
looked  across  tho  long  room  to  where  IJlanchu  stood,  the 
fcrilliant  center  of  a  brilliant  group.     "  Sho  is  very  handsome 


THE    UNSEEN    liiaDEnnOOM. 


25 


iiicun    by   iiayinj;;  you 
retorted  her  cousin, 
-ho  mciiiiH  nmrriiige." 


and  rery  clever — 8o  clever  that  I  don't  for  the  life  of  mo  know 
whether  1  niadu  lovo  to  her  or  hIjo  to  nic  It  is  too  Ittto  now 
for  tinythinp  but  a  wedding  or  heavy  damages,  and  of  the  two 
evils  I  prefer  the  lir«t. " 

Mrs.  SV'ulravcn's  dinner-party  broko  np  very  l»to,  and 
Jilanehe  Oleander  went  home  with  her  roiisin. 

"A  i)ert,  forward,  bold-faced  minxl"  Mins  Oleander  bur8t 
out,  the  nioiiient  they  were  alone  in  the  carriage.  "  Ouy, 
what  on  earlh  did  you  mean  by  i)ayiiig  her  Kuch  marked  atten- 
tion all  evening?" 

"  What  did  Carl  Walraven  mean  by  payinj;  i/ou  such 
marked  attention  all  evening?" 

"  Mr.  VVal raven  \n  no  llirt 

"  And  1  am  no  llirt — 1  mean  marriuge  also." 

*'  (ruy,  are  you  mad?  JMarry  that  nameless,  brazen  creat- 
ure?" 

"  ]'>lanchc,  be  civil!  Most  assuredly  I  will  marry  her  if  hIic 
will  marry  me." 

"  Then  you  will  rcpnnt  it  all  the  days  of  your  life." 

"Probably.  I  think  1  hourd  Miss  Dane  making  a  similar 
remark  to  your  atlia  iced  about  you." 

"  Tho  impertinent  little  wretch!  Let  her  wait  until  I  am 
Mr.  Wulraven'.s  wife!" 

'*  Vague  and  terrible!     ^\'hon  is  it  to  be?" 

"  Tho  wedding?    Next  month." 

"  Poor  Walraven!  U'hcre.  liianehe,  don't  flash  up,  pray! 
When  you  are  married  you  will  want  to  get  blue-eyed  Mollie 
oir  your  hands,  so  please  transfer  her  to  mo,  little  Hash  of 
lightning  that  she  is!  1  ahvay»  did  like  unbroken  colts  for 
the  pleasure  of  taming  them." 

Mrs.  Walraven  was  told  of  her  son's  ajiproaching  marriage 
the  day  after  the  dinner-jtarty;  dit^approved,  but  said  nothing. 
Mollie  disaf)proved,  and  .-aiil  everytliing. 

"  It's  of  no  use  talking  now,  Mollio!"  hw  guardian  ex- 
claimed, inij/atiently.     "  I  nuist  and  will  marry  lilancho. " 

"  And,  oh!  what  a  piiiable  object,  you  will  be  twelve  months 
after!  But  I'll  never  de-crt  you — never  strike  my  Hag  to  tho 
conquoress.  '  Tho  boy  stood  on  the  burning  dock.'  I'll  be  a 
seoond  Casi — what  you  may  call  him?  to  you.  I'll  bo  brido- 
maid  now,  and  your  protector  from  the  lovely  Blaucho  in  tho 
future." 

She  kept  her  v;ord.     In  sf)ite  of  Miss  Oleander's  dislike,  she 
was  first  bride-maid  when  the  eventful  day  arrived. 
But  fairer  than  the  bride,  fairest  of  t!ie  rosy  bevy  of  bride* 


36 


THE    UNSEEN    imiDEfiROOlf. 


raaiila,  shone  hliio-eyed  Mollio  Dane.  A  party  of  Kpeiichlci;;^ 
tu.'mirers  stood  bcliinJ,  cliief  among  them  llugfi  In^clow. 

'ilic  bridal  party  were  drawn  up  before  the  sur2)Hced  clergy- 
man, and  "  Who  givtth  this  woman?"  had  boon  asked  find 
iuiswered,  and  the  service  was  proceeding  in  due  order  win  n 
llicrr  was  a  sudden  commotion  at  (ho  door. 

Sumo  one  rushed  impetuously  in,  and  a  voice  that  rang 
tiirouT;h  the  lofty  edifice  shouted: 

"  8topI     I  forbid  the  marriagel" 

Carl  Walravon  whirled  round  agliast.  The  bride  shrieked; 
the  bride-maids  echoed  the  bride  in  every  note  of  the  gauiiit — 
all  pave  Molliej  and  she,  like  the  bridegroom,  had  recognized 
the  intruder. 

For,  tall  and  gaunt  as  one  of  Macbeth's  witches,  there  stood 
the  woman  Miriam ! 


CILVPTER  IV. 

MOLLIK'8  (  onquest. 

There  was  a  blank  pause;  every  eyo  fixed  on  the  towering 
form  of  the  spocter-liko  woman. 

*' I  forbid  the  marriagel"  exclaimed  Miriam.  "Clergy- 
man, on  your  peril  you  uidte  those  twol" 

"The  woman  is  mad!"  cried  CarMVal raven,  white  with 
rage.     "  Men,  turn  her  out!" 

*'  Stop!"  said  Mollie — *'  stop  one  moment.  I  know  this 
woman,  and  will  see  what  she  means." 

No  one  interfered;  every  one  gazed  in  breathless  interest  as 
Miss  Dane  quitted  her  ])ost  and  confronted  the  haggard  a]ipa- 
rition.  The  woman  uttered  a  cry  at  sight  of  her,  and  caught 
her  impetuously  by  the  arm. 

"  Mad  girl!  have  you  forgotten  what  I  told  you?  Would 
you  marry  that  man?" 

"  Mi. r-ry  what  man?  What  de  you  mean?  I  am  not  going 
to  marry  any  man  to-day.  It  is  you  who  have  gone  nuul,  I 
think." 

'*  Why,  then,  do  you  wear  those  brid;il  robes?" 

*' Jkiile-maid  robes,  if  you  please,  (iracious  me,  i\[iriiiui, 
you  didn't  think  1   was  going  to  marry  Mr.  Walraven,  did 


V" 


you 

Miriam  ])!i£sed  her  l;and  over  her  brow  with  a  bewildered 
air. 

"  Whom,  then,  is  it,  if  not  you?" 

"  Miss  Blanche  Ol'under,  of  course,  h.j  any  one  could  h«vo 


THE    UNSEEK    liRIDEGROOM. 


27 


iUllj 

111  II 

'aii'^ 


? 


told  you,  if  you  had  taken  tlio  troublo  to  ask  before  rushing 
in  here  and  making  a  scene, " 

"  I  only  hoard  last  night  he  was  to  bo  married,"  Miriam 
said,  with  a  bewiklercd  face,  "  and  took  it  for  granted  that  it 
must  be  you." 

"Then  you  must  have  had  a  poorer  opinion  of  my  taste 
than  1  should  have  thought  it  i)o.s?ible  for  you  to  have.  Come 
in  and  beg  everybody's  })ardon,  and  tell  them  it  was  all  a 
shocking  mistake." 

"  One  word  lirst:  Are  you  well  and  happy?" 

"  Perfectly  well,  and  happy  as  a  (pieen.  Come  on;  thcro 
is  no  time  to  lose.  I'eople  are  staring  dreadfully,  and  the 
bride  is  glaring  with  rage.     Quick — cornel" 

She  llittod  back  to  her  place,  and  Miriam,  stopping  forward, 
addressed  the  assenibly: 

"  1  ask  your  pardon,  ladies  and  gentlemen.  I  have  made  a 
mistake.  I  thought  the  bride  was  Miss  Dane.  I  beg  the 
ceremony  will  proceed." 

She  pulled  a  veil  she  wore  down  over  her  gaunt  face,  and 
with  the  last  word  hurried  out  and  disappeared.  ]\Ir.  Wal- 
raven,  suppressing  his  rage,  turned  to  the  minister. 

"  Proceedl"  he  said,  imjiatiently,  '*  and  make  haste." 

The  bride,  vory  white  with  ang(!r  and  mortiiication,  resumed 
her  place;  tlio  ceremony  recommeni'ed.  This  time  there  was 
no  interruption,  and  in  ten  minutes  the  twain  wore  one  ilesh. 

Half  an  hoar  lat'>r  they  were  back  at  the  Walraven  mansion 
to  cat  the  wedding-breakfast,  and  then  the  new-made  Mrs. 
Walraven,  with  an  eye  that  Hashed  and  a  voice  that  rang, 
turned  upon  her  liege  lord  and  denu'.nded  an  explanation. 
-Mr.  Walraven  shrugged  hi.s  .shoulders  doprecatiuglv. 

"  My  dearest  Blanche,  1  have  none  to  give.  The  wonuin 
iiiu.-;t  l»e  mad.     Speak  to  MoUie. " 

''  C.'a.l  Walraven,  do  not  dare  to  deceive  me  on  my  wedding- 
lay.     You  know  more  of  this  than  you  choose  to  say." 

'*  Mrs.  Walraven,  do  not  raise  ycuir  angel  voice  to  such  a 
pit(;h  for  nothing.  1  said  before,  speak  to  Mollie.  1  say 
again,  s])eak  to  Mollie;  and  here  she  is." 

"  So  she  is,"  said  Miss  J )an(!,  sauntering  in.  "  Do  you 
want  me  to  allay  a  post-nuptial  storm  already?  Auspicious 
beginning!     What  is  it?" 

"  Who  was  that  woman?"  dematnicd  the  bride. 

"  A  very  old  friend  of  nunc,  madauie. " 

Why  did  she  come  to  the  church  and  try  to  stoji  the  mar- 


nagi 


.V" 


*'  Because  she  thought  1  waa 


the  biidu.     She  said  so,  didn't 


fn 


THE    UNST5EN    BKIPIGROOM. 


she?  And  being  very  well  acquainted  with  me,  she  was  moved 
with  compassion  for  the  dehided  man  and  came  to  warn  him 
in  time  1  explained  her  little  mit^take,  as  jou  saw,  and  she 
apologized  handsomely,  and — exit,  Miriam.  Isn't  that  satis- 
factory?" 

"  Are  you  speaking  tlie  truth?" 

Miss  Dane  hi'.d  her  hand  upon  lier  heart,  and  bowed  pro- 
foundly. 

"  Doesn't  Mr.  Walraven  know  her?" 

*'  That  is  a  question  I  can  not  take  it  upon  myself  to  an- 
swer.    Mr.  Walraven  is  of  age.     Let  him  speak  for  himself," 

"  1  told  you  before,"  said  the  bridegroom,  angrily.  "  Let 
us  have  no  more  about  it,  Blanche,  or  I  may  chance  to  lose 
my  temper." 

He  turned  on  his  heel  and  walked  off  whistling,  and  Uie 
bride,  in  her  snowy  robes  and  laces,  went  down  to  breakfast, 
trying  vaitdy  to  clear  her  stormy  brow.  MoUie  puckered  up 
her  rosy  lips  into  a  shrill  whistle. 

"  And  this  is  their  wedding-day!  I  told  him  how  it  would 
be,  but  of  course  nobody  over  minds  what  I  say.  I'oor  trnardy! 
what  ever  would  become  of  him  traveling  alone  with  that 
woma?i!  How  thankful  he  ought  to  be  that  he  has  me  to  go 
along  and  take  care  of  liim!" 

For  MoUie  had  made  it  an  express  stipulation,  contrary  to 
all  precedent,  that  she  was  to  accompany  the  happy  ])air  on 
their  bridal  tour.  Miss  Oleander's  ante-nuptial  objfctioiis  had 
been  faint;  Mrs.  Walraven,  less  scrupulous,  turned  upon  her 
husband  at  the  eleventh  hour,  just  previous  to  starting,  and 
insisted  that  she  should  be  left  at  home. 

"  It  will  be  ridiculous  in  the  extreme,"  exclaimed  the 
bride  "  liaving  your  ward  travel-iiig  with  us!  Let  her  remain 
at  home  with  your  mother." 

Mr.  Walraven  looked  his  bride  Steadfastly  in  the  eye  for  a 
moment,  then  sat  down  deliberately. 

"  Look  here,  Mrs.  Walraven,"  said  ]\Ir.  Walraven,  perfect- 
ly cool,  "  you  have  made  a  little  mistnko,  I  fancy.  Permit 
me  to  rectify  it.  Wearing  the  lireeches  is  a  vulgar  exi)ression, 
I  am  aware,  and  only  admissible  in  low  circles;  still,  it  so 
forcibly  expresses  what  1  am  trying  to  express,  that  yon  will 
all')W  me  to  use  it.  You  are  trying  to  don  the  incxpies?ibles, 
Blanche,  but  it  won't  do.  My  ward  goes  with  us  on  our 
bridal  tour,  or  there  shall  be  Jio  bridal  tour  at  all.  There! 
you  have  it  in  plain  English,  Mrs.  Carl  Walraven!" 

Five  minutes  later  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Walraven  descended  to  the 
carriage,  Mrs,  Walraven  with  her  veil  drawn  down,  and  mak- 


THE    INSEKN    BRIDEGROOM. 


29 


ing  her  adieus  in  u  smolbercHi  vm-t  of  voice.  Mr.  Walraveu 
hnuded  in  his  wurd  next,  then  followed;  tlie  coachnitin  flour- 
ished his  whip  !ind  Lliey  were  fjone. 

The  happv  pair  were  nieroly  going  to  \Va!<hington.  Mr. 
Walraven  had  had  a  surfeit  of  EiirofK',  and  \Va.shiii,':ton,  tiiis 
fciparkling  winter  wi-ather,  was  at  its  gayest  and  best.  The 
Walraven  party,  with  plethoric  purses,  ])lui)ged  uito  the  midst 
of  the  gayety  at  once. 

"  1  like  this  sort  of  thing,"  said  Mollie  to  her  guardian; 
*'  the  theater,  and  the  opera,  and  a  hull,  and  two  or  three 
parties  every  night.  I  like  dancing  until  broad  daylight,  and 
going  to  bed  at  six  in  the  morning,  and  gt  tti-ng  up  to  break- 
fast at  one.  1  like  matinees  at  three  in  the  afternoon,  and 
dinners  with  seventeen  oonrsos,  and  going  to  the  White 
House,  and  t^^haking  hands  with  the  Piesident,  and  sailing 
around  the  East  IJoom,  and  having  people  point  me  out  as  the 
beauty  of  the  season.  It's  new  and  it's  nice,  and  1  never  get 
tired,  or  pale,  or  limpy,  like  most  of  the  girls.  I  never  en- 
joyed myself  so  much  in  my  life,  and  you  would  say  the  same 
thing,  guardy,  only  you're  in  your  honey-moon,  and  not  cap!^- 
ble  of  enjoying  anything." 

"  But,  Mollie,"  Mr.  Walravm  remonstrated,  "  it  isn't 
right  to  flirt  so  much  as  you  do.  There's  young  Ingelow. 
The  way  you  devoted  yourself  to  that  young  man  last  night 
set  everyboily  talking." 

"Let  'em  talk,"  responded  Miss  i3ane,  loftily.  "When 
Mr.  Ingelow  followed  me  all  the  way  from  'New  York,  1  think 
it  was  the  very  least  I  could  do  in  common  politeness.  lie 
found  it  a  wastie  and  howling  wilderness  without  me — yes,  lie 
did;  ho  said  so.     And  then,  Mr.  Walraven,  1  like  him." 

"You  like  him?" 

"  Ye?,  ever  and  ever  so  much;  and  I'm  dreadfully  sorry 
for  him,  because  1  know  he'll  break  his  heart  wiien  1  refuse 
him." 

"  lie  hasn't  proposed  y<;t,  then?" 

"  Not  yet,  but  1  expect  it  shortly.  I  know  tlie  symptoms. 
Tie  looked  almost  as  sheepish  last  night  as  you  used  to  before 
you  proposed  to  Miss  Oleander." 

It  was  quite  true;  the  handsome  young  artist  had  followed 
Miss  Dane  to  Wa-'hington.  He  had  hardly  known  bow  much 
lie  was  in  lore  with  her  until  she  was  gone,  and  all  young- 
ladydom  grew  flat,  stale,  and  insipid  as  dish-water. 

Mr.  Ingolow,  of  rather  ati  indolent  tcmpeiament,  disposed 
to  take  things  easy  and  let  the  world  slide,  was  astoaished 


30 


THE    rXSEEX    HKIDEGROOM. 


)iiiii3olf  lit  fLe  smldon  lioiit  ami  ardor  Lhi.-!  little  gii'I  with  the 
sunny  sniilf!  liud  iireatcil  williiii  him. 

"  It  isn't  hf-r  beauty,"  tliouj^iit  tlu;  Iiaiulsotnr  artist, 
"  altliongli  ."In- i-!  picfty  as  an  ati;;e!;  it  i.-;ii'l,  Ium- bliin  «^3'i';; 
and  her  gol(i;n  hair,  for  f  seu  bhu/  c;y(.s  ami  goldun  hair  ovory 
day  of  my  life,  and  ntver  n'lvu  tiu'ni  a  set'oiid  riioiight;  it  isn't 
her  iiingiiig  or  dancing,  for  half  tii*^  girls  1  knn<\'  hiii;:  and 
dance  as  well;  and  it  can't  be  licr  spiriiod  styju  of  conversa- 
tion, for  that's  not  so  very  nivv,  cithor.     Then  what  is  it?'' 

Mr.  Ingclow,  at  this  point,  always  fell  into  mu  h  a  morass 
of  ])ros  and  eons  that  his  brain  grew  dazed,  and  ho  gave  the 
2)robIfm  up  a'lt.igether.  Ihit  the  great,  iii.ontrovc  rtible  fact 
remained — he  was  headlong  in  love  wi'h  MwUie,  and  had  fol- 
lowed her  to  Washington  cxpi-essly  to  tell  her  80. 

"  For  if  I  wait,  and  she  returns  to  New  York,"  mused  Mr. 
lugelow,  "  I  will  have  Oleander  and  Sardonyx  i)ath  neck  and 
neck  in  the  race.  Here  there  is  a  fair  field  and  no  favor,  and 
here  I  will  try  my  Inck." 

But  Mr.  Ingelow  was  mistaken,  f  r  here  in  his  "  fair  field  '' 
appeared  the  most  formidable  rival  he  eoiild  possibly  have  h;ul 
— a  rival  who  seemtd  likely  to  eclipse  himself  and  Oleander 
and  Sardonyx  at  one  fell  swoop. 

At  the  presidential  levees,  on.  jiublic  promenailes  and  tlrives, 
Miss  Dane  had  notietd  a  tall,  white-haired,  aristota-atic-looking 
gentleman  attentively  watching  her  as  if  fascinated,  j-lvcry 
place  t;he  ap[Kared  in  ])ublic  tliis  distingiiished-li). iking  gentle- 
man hovereil  in  the  Ijiickground  lil»o  her  shadow. 

'*  \Vh.»  is  that  venera!)lo  old  ])arty,"  she  dcMnandid,  im- 
patii'iilly,  "  that  hainils  me  like  an  nneasy  gliosl!^  Can  1  be 
a  lost  daughter  of  his,  with  a  stra-vberry  mark  somewhere,  or 
tlo  I  bear  an  unearthly  re^■end)lan•^'  to  some  lovely  being  he 
junrdered  in  early  life?     Who  is  hu?" 

And  the  answer  <'ame,  nearly  taking  away  Cricket's  breath; 

"  Sir  IJeger  Trajeiina,  tlie  great  Welsh  biironet,  worth  no- 
body kiiows  how  many  millions,  an  1  with  castles  by  the  dozen 
in  his  own  land  of  mountains." 

It  was  }ilr.  Ingelow  who  gave  her  the  infurmalion,  and  tiie 
occa^:ion  was  a  brilliant  ball.  MoUie  had  oftcni  heard  of  the 
Welsh  baronet-,  but  this  was  the  first  time  the  had  encountered 
him  at  a  ball  or  party. 

"  I  thought  that  Sir  Iioger  Trajenna  never  accepted  invita- 
tions," she  said,  opening  and  .shutting  her  fan.  "  'I'his  is  the 
first  time  I  ever  s^aw  him  at  a  private  ])arty. " 

"  I  think   I   know   ilu;   reason,"  responded  Mr.  Ingelow. 


THK    UNSEEN    nKIDEOROOM. 


31 


"  Rumor  sets  him  down  as  the  last  in  Miss  Dane's  list  of 
killed  and  wounded." 

"So  1  huve  licard,"  said  Mollio,  coolly;  "but  it  is  too 
good  to  bo  truo.  ]  should  dearly  love  to  be  my  lady  and  live 
in  a  Welsh  cai^tle.'' 

"  With  t<i\ty-(ivo  years  and  a  hoary  head  for  a  husband?" 

"  How  painfully  aecurato  you  arel  With  his  countless 
millions  and  his  aneestral  castles,  what  does  a  little  disjiarity 
of  years  .si^'nify?" 

"  Miss  i)aiie,"  asked  Mr.  Tngelow,  vcrv  earnestly,  "  would 
you  accept  that  old  man  if  he  asked  you?"' 

"My  dear  Mr.  Ingelow,  what  a  dnadfidly  point-blank 
question  I  tSo  very  embarras;<ingl  1  thought  you  knew 
better!" 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  J>nt,  Miss  Dane,  as  a  sincere  friend, 
may  1  ask  an  answer?" 

"  Well,  then,  as  a  friend,  1  can't  f^ay  for  certain,  but  I  am 
afraid — I  am  v^ry  much  afraid  I  would  ;-ay — " 

"  Miss  Dane,  permit  mel"  evclaimed  a  voice  at  her  elbow — 
"  Sir  Iioger  Trajenna,  Miss  Dane." 

Mij-s  ]>ane  turned  calmly  rtund  to  hrr  hostess  and  tJtc  guest 
of  the  (jvening,  aTid  graciou.sly  received  the  venerable  baroni  t's 
]>ri)found  bow.  At  the  same  instant  the  music  of  a  wAiv. 
Btruck  up,  to  the  jealous  artist's  inlinite  rtliof. 

"  Xow,  then,  Miss  Dane,  it  you  are  ready,"  said  Mr.  Inge- 
low,  rather  imjieriously. 

"Excuse  me,  Mr.  Ingelow,"  replied  Miss  Dane,  with  in- 
finite calm;  "I  am  reiiliy  t(.o  much  fatigued  for  this  waltz. 
Sir  Iioger,  some  one  is  singing  yonder.  I  should  like  to  hear 
him." 

And  under  Mr.  Tngdow'd  angry  eyes,  she  took  the  enrapt- 
ured old  baronet's  arm  and  walked  away. 

"The  hoary  dotard  I"  muttiied  the  artist,  glaring  and 
grinding  his  teeth;  "the  sixly-five-ycafclil  imbrcilcl  It  is 
the  first  time  I  ever  heard  her  decline  a  waltz  under  the  plea 
of  fatigue.  She's  a  hiiirtUss  coquette,  that  Mollio  Dane,  and 
1  am  a  fool  to  waste  a  :-econd  thought  iijinn  her." 

Mir.s  Dane  danced  no  more  that  evening,  and  Sir  IJoger 
never  left  her  side.  She  talked  to  him  until  his  oM  eyes 
};parkled;  she  smiled  upon  him  until  his  brain  swam  with  de- 
light. 

Atid  that  was  l)ut  the  beginning.  The  torments  Mr.  Hugh 
Ingelow  sulfercd  for  tiic  ensuing  two  weeks  words  are  too  weak 
to  describe.     To  cap  the  climax,  Dr.  Oleander  suddenly  ap- 


:J2 


THE    UNSEEN    UTIIDEGROOM. 


peiired  ii|ion  the  scene  and  glowered  under  bent  biack  brows 
at  cofjiiottish  Mollie. 

"  The  idea  of  being  civil  to  anything  so  comnionplace  as  a 
mere  doctor,"  Miss  Dane  said  to  her  gtianlian,  when  taken  to 
task  for  the  airs  she  assjunied,  "  wlien  Welsh  baronets  arc 
ready  to  go  down  on  their  knees  and  worship  tlie  ground  I 
walk  on!  If  he  doesn't  lilvo  the  wa.y  he  is  treated,  he  knows 
the  way  back  to  New  York.  I  never  sent  lor  him  to  come 
here." 

Sir  Roger's  devotion  was  inexpressible.  No  wonder  Mollie 
was  dazzled.  The  city  was  on  the  f/ni  rive.  'J'he  ])i(|uant 
little  New  York  beauty,  whom  the  men  adored  and  the  women 
abused,  had  caught  the  golden  prize.  Would  lie  really  ask 
her  to  become  Lady  Tiajejina,  or  would  (he  glamour  wear  off 
and  leave  the  saucy  little  ilirt  stranded  high  juid  dry? 

The  last  night  of  Mr.  Waliaven's  stay  in  Vv'at=hington  settled 
that  question.  They  were  at  a  grand  reception,  Mrs.  Wal- 
raven  magniilceut  in  moirr  and  diamonds,  and  ]\Iollie  iloating 
about  in  a  cloud  of  misty  pink,  and  fijiariding  pearls,  and 
amber  tresses.  There,  of  course,  was  Sir  liogcr,  and  there 
(also,  of  course)  were  Dr.  Oleander  and  Hugh  Ingelow  in  a 
state  of  frantic  jealousy. 

It  had  come,  long  ere  this,  to  be  a  settled  thing  that  the 
Welsh  baronet  should  never  Kave  her  side,  except  while  she 
was  dancing.  So  that  when,  a  little  before  supper,  they 
strolled  out  on  the  piazza,  it  was  nothing  surprising  or  re- 
markable. 

The  winter  night  was  windless  and  mild.  Sir  Koger's 
asthmatic  and  rheumaiic  aflliotions  were  quite  safe  in  the 
warm  atmosphere.  Moonlight  flooded  everything  with  its 
misty  glory,  stars  spangled  the  sky,  music  came  softened  by 
distance  fiom  the  ball-room — all  was  conducive  to  love  and  to 
love-making.  Sir  Koger  Trajenna,  inspired  by  the  music, 
the  moonlight,  and  the  charming  little  beauty  beside  him, 
t'-  3  and  then  laid  name,  heart,  and  fortune  at  Miss  Dane's 
i..ir  feet. 

There  was  a  pause.  Even  Mollie  felt  a  little  iluttered,  now 
that  the  time  had  come. 

'*  1  know  the  disparity  of  years  is  great,"  the  baronet  said, 
quite  trembling  in  hiseagerness;  "but  my  whole  existence  will 
bo  devoted  to  yon;  every  pleasure  wealth  can  purchase  shall 
be  ynurs;  every  wish  that  I  can  anticipate  shall  bo  anticipated. 
You  will  be  my  darling,  my  idol.  I  love  yot  passionately. 
Say  not,  then,  1  am  too  old."' 

*'  I  don't,"  said  Mollie — "  I  don't  mind  your  age  iu  tho 


i 


THE    UNSEEN    KRIDEQROOM, 


33 


least.  T  rather  dislike  young  men;  I've  liad  such  a  surfoJt  of 
them." 

"  Then  1  may  hope?"  breathlessly. 

"  Oh,  yes,  Sir  lJ<»gor,  you  may  hope.  J  am  not  in  iove  with 
anyboily  else  that  [  know  of." 

"  And  you  will  be  my  wife?" 

"  Ah,  that's  another  thing!  I  don't  seem  to  care  about 
being  married,  somehow.  ^'ou  must  give  me  time,  .Sir 
liogor.  Come,  let  us  go  in  to  supper.  1  will  tell  you  bv  and 
by." 

"  Aa  you  please,  my  beautiful  Mollie.  Only  don't  keep  me 
waiting  too  long,  and  let  your  answer  be  '  yes  '  when  it 
comes. " 

Miss  Dane  partook  of  supper  with  a  very  good  appetite,  ac- 
cepted j\Ir.  Iiigelow  for  a  wait.-';  and  J)r.  Oleander  for  a  qua- 
drille, smiled  sweetly  and  graciously  upon  both,  and  took  .Sir 
Kogor's  arm,  at  the  close  of  the  ball,  for  the  carriage. 

"  Well,  Miss  Dane — Mollie!"  the  baronet  said,  eagerly, 
"  have  you  decided?    What  is  it  to  be — yes  or  no?" 

And  Mollie  looked  up  in  his  face  with  those  starry,  azure 
eyes,  and  that  bewildering  smile,  and  answered  sweetly: 

"Yes!" 


CHAP'JVKIi  V. 

MOI.LIE's   JHSCniEF. 

Mips  Dane  returned  to  New  York  "  engaged,"  and  with 
the  fact  known  to  none  save  herself  and  the  enrapture<l 
Welshman. 

"  There  is  no  need  to  be  in  a  hurry,"  the  young  lady  said 
to  her  elderly  adorer:  "  and  I  want  to  be  safely  at  home  be- 
fore I  overwhelm  them  with  the  news.  There  is  always  euoh 
fussing  and  talking  made  over  engagements,  and  an  engage- 
ment is  ilreadfully  humdrum  and  dowdyish  anyhow." 

That  was  what  Miss  Dane  a»id.  What  she  thought  was  en- 
tirely another  matter. 

"  1  do  want  Doctor  Oleander  and  Mr.  Sardonyx  to  propose; 
and  if  they  discover  I've  accepted  the  baronet,  they  won't. 
[  am  dying  to  see  the  wry  fa^es  they  will  make  over  '  No, 
thanks!'     Then  there  is  Hugh  ingelow — " 

But  Mollie's  train  of  wicked  thoughts  was  apt  to  break  olf 
at  this  point,  and  a  remorseful  expression  cloud  her  blue  eyes. 

"  Poor  Hugh!  Poor  fellow!  It's  a  little  too  bad  to  treat 
him  so;  and  he's  dreadfully  fond  of  me,  too.  But,  then,  it's 
impossible  to  help  it;  of  course  it  is.     I  want  to  be  rich,  and 


I 


:]4 


TUK    UNSEEN    ItKIDPXillOOM. 


\v(!ir  ilintnoinls,  niid  tiavel  ovor  the  worlil,  iuul  be  '  My  Lulv." 
uiiil  j)'»oi-,  (K':i,!'  lluifh  (loiikln't  koip  a  cut  properly.  Ah  I  wluit 
II  piiy  all   Lilt',  nicu  men,  uiul   Uic  liamlsonio  mon,  must   bo 

p;)oi-:'' 

I'^iithfiilly  in  the  train  of  the  "Wiih-jiven  party  returned  Mol- 
lie's  tidoror.s.  So  one  w.ia  siirpristMl  .it  (he  continued  devotion 
of  Mi.'hsrrf.  Ingclow  and  Oieaml'jr;  but  every  one  was  surprised 
lit  Sir  Knger  Trujetnui. 

"  Is  it  po.-^sible  tliiit  jiroud  old  niiin  lias  really  fallen  serious- 
ly in  love  with  that  yullow-haired,  llighty  chilii?"  asked  ^Irs. 
Carl  Walraveu  in  antrry  surprise.  "  llo  H"aa  attentive  at 
Washington,  certainly;  but  1  fancied  his  absurd  old  eyes  were 
didy  caught  for  the  moment.  If  it  tihoiiM  prove  serious,  what 
a  thing  it  will  bo  for  her!  and  these  antediluvians,  in  their 
dotage,  will  do  such  ridi'udoua  things.  My  Lady  Trajennal 
JJettritable  little  minx  I     I  should  like  to  poison  her  I" 

Miss  Dane  carried  on  her  llirtations,  despite  her  engage- 
ment,  with  her  thrci-  m  fro  yr.uthful  admirers, 

Kow  ;i,nd  then  Sir  Jioger,  looking  on  with  doting,  but  dis 
aj)proving  eyes',  ventured  on  a  feeble  vemtmstrance. 

"  It  is  unfair  to  yourself  and  unfair  to  mo,  my  darling,'* 
ho  said.  "  Kicry  smile  you  bestow  u])on  them  is  a  stab  to 
me.     Do  let  nic  s|)eak  to  Mr.  Walravcii,  and  end  it  at  once." 

Ihit  still  Mi»!li.;  refused  to  consent. 

"  A'o,  no.  Sir  Koger;  let  me  have  my  own  way  a  little 
longer.  'J'here  is  no  need  of  your  being  jealous.  I  don't  care 
a  straw  for  the  three  of  them.  Oidy  it  is  such  fun.  Wait  a 
little  longer." 

Of  course  the  fair-haired  despot  had  her  way. 

The  soconil  week  of  their  niturn  Mr.  and  ]\Irs,  Walravcn 
were  "  at  home  "  to  their  friends,  and  once  more  the  t;|)acious< 
halls  and  stair-ways  were  ablaze  with  illumimition,  and  the 
long  ranges  of  rooms,  ojMniing  one  into  another,  wore  radiant 
with  light,  and  ihnvers,  and  music,  and  brilliant  ladies. 

Mrs.  Waliaven,  superb  in  her  bridal  robes,  stood  beside  her 
husband,  receiving  their  guests.  And  Miss  MoUie  Dane,  in 
shimmering  silk,  that  blushed  as  she  walked,  and  clusters  of 
water-lilies  drooj)ing  from  her  tinseled  curls,  was  as  lovely  as 
Venus  rising  from  the  sea-foam. 

Here,  there,  everywhere,  she  ilashod  like  a  gleam  of  light; 
waltzing  with  the  dreamy-eyed  artist,  I  [ugh  lugelow,  hanging 
on  the  arm  of  Dr.  Oleander,  chattering  like  u  nuigpie  with 
Lawyer  Sardonyx,  and  anon  laughing  at  all  three  with  Sir 
Koger  Trajenna. 

You  might  as  well  have  tried  to  regulate  the  vagaries  of  a 


J 


THE    IXSEI'^     BfUDr.CiUOOM. 


■•Jfl 


V." 
ha 


comet — as  \vc;Il  guess  from  wliat  quuitcr  the  fickle  wiml  would 
ni'xt  hlow. 

"  VVoiiiGn  arci  till  puzzles,"  t^uid  I)r.  Oleiiiuler,  in  (juioUlo- 
spair  to  Mrs.  \V:iIravi'ii.  " 'I'liat  is  a  truism  lou;^'  and  triiid; 
but,  by  dovi'!  Miss  iMoiiie  Daiu'  puts  the  toppurs  on  the  lot. 
J  novLT  met  with  such  a  bokviMerinif  sjirite. " 

"  Odious,  artfid  creature'."  liisscd  the  bride  of  Car!  W;d- 
raven.  "  it  is  all  iier  crafty  schemini,'  to  attract  the  attention 
of  that  hoary-he;ided  sinipKton,  Sir  K'i^er  'rrajenna.  If  you 
are  in  love  with  her,  fiuy  (and  how  you  can  h  a  mystery  to 
me),  why  don't  you  [iroposc  at  once?" 

"  Jiecause  J  am  afraid,  madamc. " 

"Afraid!"  scornfully — '"afraid  of  a  goosey  girl  of  seven- 
teen! J  never  took  you  for  a  born  idiot  before,  Guy  Olean- 
der." 

"  Thanks,  my  fair  relative!  lUit  It  is  quite  as  disagreeable 
to  be  refused  by  a  '  goosey  girl  of  seventeen  '  as  by  u  young 
lady  of  seven-and-twenty.  Your  age,  my  dear  lUanohe,  is  it 
not?" 

"  Never  mind  my  age!"  retorted  Mrs.  Walraven,  shav))Iy. 
"'  My  age  lias  nothing  to  do  with  it.  If  you  <1ou't  asjk  Mollio 
Dane  to-night,  Hugh  Ingelow  or  -bimes  .Sardonyx  iviil  to- 
morrow, and  the  chances  are  ten  to  one  she  aooo])ts  the  first 
on(!  who  proposes." 

"  IndciHl!    Why?" 

"  Oh,  for  the  salco  of  being  engaged,  being  a  heroine,  being 
talked  ai)out.  She  likes  to  be  talked  about,  this  bewildering 
fairy  ()f  yours.  Slio  isn't  in  love  with  any  of  you;  that  I  can 
see.  It  isn't  in  her  shallow  juiture,  I  supjwso,  to  be  iji  love 
with  anybody  but  her  own  precioiis  self." 

"My  dear  Mri.  Walraven,  are  you  not  a  little  severe? 
Poor,  blue-eyed  MoUie!  And  you  think,  if  I  speak  to-night, 
1  stand  a  chance?" 

"  A  better  dianco  than  if  you  defer  it.  She  may  say  '  yes  * 
on  the  impulse  of  the  moment.  If  she  does,  trust  mo  to 
make  her  keep  lier  word." 

"  How?" 

"  That  is  my  all'air.     Ah!  what  was  that?" 

The  cousins  were  standing  near  one  of  the  long,  rirhly 
dr»i)ed  windows,  and  the  silken  hangings  had  llutteretl  sud- 
denly. 

"  Nothing  but  the  wind,"  replied  Dr.  Oleander,  carelessly. 
"  Very  well,  Blanche,  I  take  you  at  your  word.  1  wdl  ask 
Mollie  to-night." 

Mrs.  Walraven  nodded,  and  turned  to  go. 


3G 


TMT:    unseen    BRIDFOROOAr. 


"  Ask  lipr  n^  fjiiii'kly  as  poasiblo.  You  are  to  danco  the 
polka  (|'ii!ilrillo  with  her,  are  you  not?  After  tlio  polka  fjiju- 
(Irillo,  tlifii.  And  now  lot  iis  part,  or  (hoy  will  bci^iri  to  iluuk 
we  are  liatcliiii,';  aiiothnr  (i'un|)owilcr  JMot. " 

"  Or  3Ir.  Ca.l  Walravon  may  be  jealous,"  siicfjestcfl  Dr. 
Olcaiulor,  willi  an  unpleaaanl.  iaiiirli.  "I  i^ay,  liianehc  the 
gold en-li aired  Mollie  couldn't  be  li's  daughter,  couid  she?" 

Mrs.  Wulraven's  black  eyes  lliidicd. 

"  Whoever  slio  i^,  the  p^.onor  sha  Is  ont  of  tliis  house  the 
better.  I  hate  her,  Doctor  ()leandor — your  Fan*  One  with  the 
Goldc!!  Tjocks,  and  1  could  go  to  her  funeral  with  the  greatest 
pleasurel" 

The  plotting  pair  separated.  Hardly  were  they  gone  when 
the  silken  eurtains  parted  and  a  bright,  face,  framed  in  yellow 
ringlets,  'peeped  out,  sty->.rkling  with  miochief. 

"  '^Fwo  women  in  one  house,  two  oat.s  over  one  mouse,  never 
agree,"  quoth  I\Io]lie.  "  iiisteners  never  hear  any  good  of 
themaelves,  but,  oh!  tlie  opportiuiity  was  irresistible.  80 
Doetor  Ouy  Oleander  is  going  to  propose,  and  Mollie  Dane  is 
to  Kiiy  '  yes '  on  the  impidso  of  the  moment,  and  Mamma 
])lanehe  is  to  make  her  stick  to  her  word  I  And  it's  all  to 
ha|ipen  alter  th;^  ])i)lka  quadrille!  Very  well;  I'm  ready.  If 
Doclor  Oleander  and  his  cousin  don't  find  their  match,  my 
name's  not  MoHiel" 

Miss  Dane  consulted  her  jeweled  tablets,  and  discovered 
that  the  i»oIka  ([uadriile  was  the  very  next  in  order. 

Shaking  out  her  rosy  skirts,  she  lluttercd  away,  mercilessly 
bent  on  manskiughter.  Every  one  nuide  way  f  jr  the  daughter 
of  the  house,  and  in  a  moment  she  was  beside  J)r.  Ol<!ander, 
holding  up  the  iidaid  tablets,  and  smiling  her  brightest  in  his 
dazzleil  eyes. 

"  Such  disgraceful  conduct,  Doctor  Oleander!  I  have  been 
searching  for  you  everywhere.  I  aj)peal  Lo  you,  (.'olonel 
Marshland;  he  engaged  me  for  this  (piadrille.  There  is  the 
music  now,  and  he  leaves  me  to  hunt  the  house  for  him." 

"  Unpardonable,"  said  the  gallant  colonel.  "  At  his  age  1 
should  have  known  better.  Oleander,  make  your  peace  if  you 
can." 

The  colonel  made  liis  bow,  and  then  ho  walked  away. 

Dr.  Oleander  drew  her  arm  inside  his  own,  bending  very 
low  over  the  sparkling  sprite, 

"  You  are  not  implacable,  I  trust,  Miss  Molhe.  It  was  all 
the  coionel's  fault,  I  assure  you." 

Mollie  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"Of  course  you  say  so.     Oh,  don't  wear  that  im])loring 


THK    UNSEEN    li!UDEGKOOM. 


87 


f:ino!  J  forp;ivo  yon;  but  aiii  no  more.  Tliorol  they  iiro  wait- 
ing—com:!!" 

All  tliroiiju'li  tiic  (liincc  Mi-^s  J)ano  spiukled  nn  yho  Likil  ncv^er 
sparkled  Ivfoie.  Jlru  I  ho  fjuudrilio  was  over,  J)r.  Oltaiidcr 
uus  tt'ii  faili'iins  (li'ft)or  in  lovo  than  ever. 

"  It  irt  80  very  not  herel"  Mollio  exiilaimcd,  impatiently — 
*'  perfecilly  .stilliiigl     Do  let  us  go  somewhere  and  g(  t  eool. " 

'*  Lot  ii>!  go  into  the  conservatory,"  said  J)r.  Oltander,  de- 
lightedly, (jidte  un('f>nscious  that  his  fair  enshivcr  was  jtlaying 
into  his  hand.  "  We  aro  sure  to  find  aolituue  and  coolneBB 
there." 

The  conservatory  was  delight  fully  cool,  after  the  African 
tempera!  nro  of  the  ball-room.  Alabaster  lanijts  idied  a  palo 
sort  of  niooidight  over  the  sleeping  llowers,  and  plai--hing 
fountains,  and  marble  goddesses. 

Aliss  Dane  suid<  diiun  undur  a  latge  orangi>t;ee  and  began 
faninng  her.^elf  langniiily. 

"  How  nioc — this  half  light,  these  jierfumrd  roses,  those 
tinkling  water- falls,  music,  and  s-olitudel  Do  I  look  like  Love 
among  the  Koscs,  JJoetor  Oli  ander?" 

"  Yes;  like  Love,  like  Venus,  like  everything  that  is  bright, 
and  beaiitii'id,  and  irre.si^■tiblt•,  Miss  Dane!" 

"  Monsieur  overwhelms  mel  AVhy,  good  gracious,  sirl 
What  do  yon  mean?" 

Fur  ])r.  Oleander  had  actually  caught  her  in  his  arms  and 
was  pouring  forth  a  jtasaionate  declaration  of  love, 

"  Goodness  mel  .IJeleasc  me  instantly!  How  dare  you,  sir? 
Have  you  taken  leave  of  your  yenses,  Doctor  Oh  aniiei?' 

"  I  am  mad  for  love  of  you,  beautiful  Mollic!  I  adore  yeu 
v/ith  my  whole  in  art!" 

"  Do  you,  indeed?"  said  !Mol]ie,  looking  angrily  at  her 
rnftled  plumage.  "  !See  my  dret;s — not  fit  to  be  seen!  Fm 
curpi-ised  at  you,  Doctor  Oleander!" 

"Mollie,  I  love  you!" 

"  I  don't  care — that's  no  reason  wby  y<,u  should  spoil  my 
lovely  dress,  and  make  me  a  perfect  fright.  You  had  no 
business  going  on  in  that  outrageous  nninncr,  sir!" 

"  But,  Mullie!  (iood  heavens!  will  you  listen  to  me? 
Never  mind  your  dress." 

"  >,'evcr  mind  my  dress?"  critMl  Miss  Dane,  shrilly.  "  Due- 
tor  Oleander,  you'ro  a  iir-ifcct  bear,  and  Fve  a  good  mind 
n(;ver  to  speak  to  you  again  as  long  as  1  live!  Let  us  go  back 
t"  the  ball-room.  If  1  had  known  yon  were  going  to  act  so, 
I'd  have  seen  you  couijiderably  incouvenienceti  before  I  came 
with  you  here." 


38 


TIIK    rXSEEK    IlRIDF.r.KOOM. 


"  Kut  iiti'il  yon  nnswor  mc,  Mollio. " 

"  AnawiT  yon?  Answer  you  wiiul?  You  haven't  uskcd  mo 
;my  quostiori." 

"  1  told  you  1  lovcil  you." 

"  Well,'"'  tiKtiiy,  "  you  don't  cull  that  a  riuestion?" 

"  Mollio,  will  you  lovo  me?" 

"  No — of  onurso  noti  Oh,  what  a  torment  you  are!  Do 
lot  us  go  hiiclvl" 

">>\;vt'il"  oxcliiimcd  ])r.  Oleander,  gathering  hoj)e — 
"never,  ]\lnllie,  uniil  you  auswer  mol'' 

llo  oaught  hoth  her  hands  and  hold  them  fast,  Mollio 
struggling  in  vain. 

"  Oh,  dear,  dear,  what  will  I  i-ay?  And  tliore — if  there 
isn't  isonie  one  coming  inl  Ltt  me  go,  for  jtity's  take,  and 
I'll  answer  you — tn-morrow. " 

"  To-night,  Mollie— to-night!" 

"  I  won't — thcrel"  wrenching  her  hands  free  and  springing 
up.  "  Come  to-morrow,  between  twelve  and  one,  and  you 
bliall  have  your  answer." 

She  darted  away,  and  alnioirit  into  the  arms  of  Mr.  Hugh 
lngel-.»w.  'i'iuit  gei  tleman  looked  su^-ipieiously  from  her  to 
Dr.  Oleander,  emerging  from  tho  shadow  of  tiie  orange-tree. 

"  Am  I  ih'  fro/',  Miss  Dane?  I  thought  to  lind  tiie  conserv- 
atory desei'ted." 

"  And  so  it  will  be,  in  a  minute,"  said  IMollio,  familiarly 
taking  \m  ann.  "  They  are  goin^-  to  supper  out  yonder,  and 
I  am  ulmost  famiiihed.     Take  me  drwn." 

"  And,  if  I  can,  J  will  make  you  follow  <iuy  Oleander's  lead 
before  I  release  you,"  was  the  mental  addition  of  tho  naughty 
co(pietto. 

Ir,  was  no  didicidt  task  to  accomplish.  A  2)owder  magazine 
with  the  train  laid  could  not  have  needed  a  smaller  sj)ark  to 
c!iu-!e  its  explosion.  Thnse  fiiw  wonls  elevated  the  young  art- 
ist at  once  to  the  lofticfit  pinnarle  of  bliss. 

"  She  has  just  refused  Oh.ander,  and  J  may  stand  a 
chance,"  he  thought.     "  I'll  ask  her,  by  dove!  after  supper." 

Mr.  Ingelow  kept  his  word.  He  paid  .Miss  Dane  the  mosi 
marked  attention  throughout  the  repast,  filled  her  plate  with 
delieacies  and  li^^r  ears  with  cnnipliments.  And  Mollio  was 
sweet  a.-',  sumuu  r  cherrit  3,  and  li.ok  his  arm  when  it  was  over, 
and  let  him  le;ul  her  into  a  retired  nook  wlierc  amber  curtains 
shut  them  in;  and  tie  re,  })iil«i  and  agitiUed,  the  poor  fellow 
said  his  siiy  and  waildl  for  his  scntencx'. 

MoUie's  wicked  heart  smote  her.     She  liked  this  handsome 


mc 


J)o 


to 


THK    INSJ-EN     liKinr'CliOOM. 


'.][) 


youn{4  arti.sL  nion!  tlnm  alic  wtiH  juvani  of,  ami  tlin  first  twingo 
of  rt'inorso  for  lu'i'  m(!r<;il('K.s  cociiii.'try  lillc;il  Iht  niitnl. 

I'lit  it  vva.s  too  Ir.tu  to  psiiisi!  in  liur  nii.s»jl»iLf-mHlun{^,  .iiifl 
lh«  fun  jilicii'l  v,;n  too  f<'iii)it.in^'. 

"  .Sjtoiilc,  Mi.  Diinc."  Mr,  Jii;.ft;!ow  ini|)lorc(l;  "for  pitv'a 
fiiike,  don't  nay  voii  hiivo  k'U  me  on  only  to  jilt  mi;  in  oold 
b''>f)il  at  tliu  last:" 

"  li'ather  stron*,'  lan,i:iiii','e,  Mr.  lnf,'olo\v,"  said  Mollic,  coolly 
•milium,'  to  piece-!  a  rost;.  "  1  liave  not  led  you  on,  liavn  J?  I 
lavo  been  friendly  with  you  because  I  Jiked  you — as  I  have 
jeen  with  a  dozen  others." 

"  Then  I  am  to  (ionsider  myself  rejected,  Miss  Dane?" 

lie  stood  up  before  her,  very  wiiite,  with  eyes  of  unspeak- 
able re])roa(:h. 

■'  Wliat  a  hurry  you  are  in!"  said  Mollie,  pettishl*.  "  (iivo 
me  until  to-morrow.  I  will  thiidc  it  over.  J>etween  twelve 
and  one  I  will  be  at  home;  come  then  aiul  you  shall  have  your 
answer.  'J'herel  let  us  (fo  hack  to  the  liall-room.  I  have 
j)romi3od  this  redowa  to  Mr.  Sardonyx." 

Mr.  Ingelow,  in  ])rofound  silence,  led  Miss  Oane  back  to 
the  ball-room,  where  they  founil  the  elegant  lawyer  searching 
for  his  partner. 

"  I  thought  you  had  forgotten  me,  Miss  Dane,"  he  said, 
taking  ln'r  (jIT  at  once. 

"  lmj)0s.sihle,  Mr.  Sardonyx,"  lauglied  Jlollio.  "  So  norry 
to  liave  kept  you  waiting;  but  better  late  than  never." 

That  <lanec  was  tlu;  old  story  over  again.  At  its  close  the 
lawyer  was  so  bewitched  that  he  hardly  knew  wliether  ho  stood 
on  his  h(!ad  or  lu'cls. 

"It  is  comingi"  thought  wicked  ]\lollio,  looking  sideways 
at  him,  "and  only  wants  a  ])roper  piaco  to  eomo  in." 
Aloud:  "  It  is  so  warm  here — 1  feel  (juite  faint,  really.  Suj)- 
pose  wo  step  out  on  the  ])iazza  a  munKnf:'" 

An  instant  later  and  they  emerged  through  tlu;  drawing- 
room  window  to  the  piazza,  Mollie  wrap})ed  in  a  scarlet  shawl, 
along  wliich  her  bright  curls  waved  like  sunshine.  'I'hc  night 
was  still,  warm,  and  moonlight;  the  twinkling  lights  of  the 
great  city  shone  like  a  shower  of  stars. 

And  here,  for  the  third  time  that  eventful  night,  Mollie 
Dane  listened  to  an  ardent  avowal  of  love.  Fov  the  third  time 
the  long  lashes  drooped  over  the  misi;hicvous  eyes. 

"  This  is  so  sudden — so  unexpeeteil — Mr.  Sardonyx!  I  feel 
highly  complimented,  of  course;  but  still  you  must  pardon 
mo  if  I  do  not  rciily  at  once,  Cive  mo  until  to-morrow,  afe 
noon.     Come  then  and  you  will  be  answered." 


10 


THE    UNSF,E"Nr    BRIDEOnOOSf. 


She  flutteroi'l  awny  lik<^  a  spirit  witli  the  hist  wonls,  leiiving 
tho  hopi'ful  huvyor  .'tivndin'.r  in  ecstu-fy.  Of  i-cur-ie  ^lie  mean!, 
to  iiocL'pfc  hun,  or  sho  \vonl  I  \viv('  refnsol  hinj  on  thii  .«pot. 

For  tho  rest  of  tlio  time  Mi^s  JJane  ivas  exclusively  the 
Wilih  baronot','?,  find  li.-^teued  With  iinmni  "1  wrenity  to  his 
rcjiroivi'lics. 

"  You  uru  drivin.i,'  me  distracted,  Mollio,"  ho  .said,  pitoniis- 
1}'.  "  You  rjiiist  let  me  speak  to  your  guardian  without  fur- 
ther delay.      I  insist  upon  ir,," 

"  Very  well,"  replied  Mi.s.^i  Dane,  ealiuly.  *'  As  you  please, 
certainly.  "^'!>u  may  tell  him  to-ni  irn»'.v'.  Jjet  juc  see:  at 
noon  Mr.  Walraveii  will  be  at  home  and  alone.  Come  at 
noon." 

The  pavty  ws  over — a  brilliant  succes3. 

Mrs.  Wairave'i  had  been  admired,  and  Miss  Dane  had  scan- 
dalizotl  the  best  metropolitan  soeiety  svort^e  than  ever. 

"  And,  oh  I"  thontriit  that  wicked  witch,  aa  she  laid  her 
curly  head  on  Hio  pillow  in  the  gray  darvn,  "  won't  there  be 
fun  by  and  by?" 

Mrs.  WiUraven  descended  to  breakfast  at  lialf  p;iyt  ten,  and 
announced  her  intention  of  spending  tho  romainder  of  the 
morning  s!iop[)ing. 

Miiilie,  in  a  charming  dcnii-toilet,  and  looking  as  fresh  aH 
though,  she  ha'l  not  danced  incessantly  the  whole  night  before, 
lieanl  the  announeenu'nt  with  secret  satisfaction. 

"  Are  you  trying,  too,  Mollie?"  asked  Iier  guardian. 

"  "No,"  .'■aid  Moliie;  ''I'm  going  to  st;ty  at  home  and  en- 
tertain Sir  iioger  'rrajenna.     lie  is  coming  to  luncheon." 

"Seems  to  mo,  ("ricket,"  said  Mr.  Waliaven,  "Sir  Iioger 
Trajonna  hang'^  after  you  like  your  shadow.  What  doi  s  it 
mean.-*  ' 

"  It  moans — making  your  charming  ward  Lady  Ti'ajenna, 
if  he  can,  of  cniu-se. " 

"  I'.iit  he's  as  old  as  the  hills,  MoUie." 

"  'JMien  rii  be  a  fasciiuiling  young  widow  all  tiie  sooner." 

"  .Di^^gusting!'■  (xe'laimed  Mrs.  (Jarl  W'ahaven.  "  ^'ou  arc 
perfectly  heail!ess,  Mollie  Danel" 

She  8we()t  from  the  room  to  dress  for  her  shopping  expe- 
dition. It  was  almost  twelve  when  .'^lie  was  fairly  olT,  and 
then  Mollie  summoned  her  maid  and  gave  her  sundry  direc- 
tions with  a  very  serious  face. 

"  J  am  going  to  speiul  the  m'>rning  in  the  blue  room,  ]\Iar- 
garet,"  yhe  said;  "and  I  expect  four  gentlemen  to  call — Sir 
Uoger  Triijcnna  Mr.  Ingelow,  Dootor  Oleander,  and  Mr  Sar- 
ilonyx, " 


THE    UNSEEN    liRIDEGROOM. 


41 


"  Yes,  miss,"  said  Marjrarot. 

*'  Sir  Kogcr  you  will  snow  at  once  into  the  bine  room," 
pursued  the  young  lady;  "Mr.  Fiigciow  into  the  library: 
J)octor  Oleander  into  tlie  drawing-room  and  Mr.  Sardonyx 
into  the  breal<f;i;st-pivrl()r.     Do  you  under^-land?" 

"  Yvs,  miss,"  KHid  Margaret. 

"Very  well,  then;  that  will  do.  I  am  going  to  the  blue 
room  now,  and  don't  you  forget  my  directions,  or  1  irhall  box 
your  ears." 

Miss  Dane  sailed  off.  Margaret  looked  after  her  with  a 
queer  fai'o. 

"  She'd  do  it,  loo!  I  wonder  what  all  this  means?  Some 
pieoe  of  misehief,  I'll  be  bound  I" 

The  baronet  arrived,  prnni[)t  to  the  hour,  and  was  ushered 
at  once  into  the  presence  of  his  enchantress.  Fifteen  minutes 
after  came  Dr.  Oleander,  shown  l)y  demure  Margaret  into  the 
drawing-room;  and  scarcely  was  iio  seated  when  tiuir-a-ling! 
went  the  bell,  and  the  door  was  opened  to  Mi.  Hugh  Ingelow. 
Mr.  Ingelow  was  left  to  cftmpo.se  himself  in  the  library.  Then 
there  was  a  pause,  and  then,  last  of  all,  arrived  Mr.  Sardonyx. 

The  blue  room  lieli  rang.  Ma.garet  ran  up  and  met  her 
mistress  at  the  door. 

"  Arc  they  all  down-stairs,  Margaret?"  in  a  whisper. 

"Yes,  miss." 

"Then  show  them  u}-  in  tlie  order  they  arrived.  1  don't 
want  Sir  Roger  to  know  they've  been  kcjit  waiting." 

Margarc'„  obeyed.  In  two  minutes  she  opened  the  blue-room 
door,  and  announced  Dr.  ON-uvler. 

The  doctor  advanced  with  an  expectant  smile;  recoiled,  u 
second  later,  at  sight  of  th'i  baronet,  with  a  frown. 

"  (iood-day,  doetor,"  saiil  Miss  Dane,  poliLcly.  "Happy 
to  see  you.     Lovely  morning,  is  it  not?" 

Tlio'doetor  dropped  into  a  seat.  Hardly  had  he  taken  it, 
when — "Mr.  Ingelowl"  evolaimod  Margaret,  opening  the 
door. 

Mr.  Irigelow  started,  and  stared  at  sight  of  the  trio,  where 
he  had  looked  for  but  one. 

Miss  Dane  greeted  him  with  smiling  cordiality,  and  there 
was  nothina:  for  it  but  to  sink  into  a  chuir. 

Iiefoie  Mollie's  lat  word  of  welcome  was  littered,  the  door 
©])ened  for  the  third  tiaio,  and  enter  Mr.  Sardonyx. 

The  tableau  was  indcKcriftubly  iuilicrous.  The  four  men 
glared  atone  anotiier  vengefidly,  and  then  four  pairs  of  eyes 
turned  indignantly  uj)on  Miss  Dane  for  an  exphuiatiou.  They 
hud  it. 


42 


THE    UNSEEN     TiRinEGROOM. 


"  Gentlemen,"  said  Miss  Dane^  with  her  sweetest  smile,  "  I 
invited  yon  liere  this  morning  because  you  are  very  piiiticuhir 
fi'iends,  Jind  I  wii^hcd  to  give  you  an  agreeable  surprise  be- 
fore all  the  avenue  knows  it.  Doctor  Oleander,  Mr.  ingelow, 
Mr.  Sardonyx,  allow  mo  to  present  to  you  my  plighted  hus- 
band, Sir  Koger  Trajenna. " 


CIIAPTErt  VI. 

JI  0  L  L  I  E  '  S     J5  K  I  D  A  L  . 

Imagine  that  tableau! 

P'or  an  instant  there  was  dead  silence;  a  bomb  bursting  in 
their  midst  could  hardly  have  startled  them  more.  Mollie 
dared  not  look  in  their  faces,  lest  the  inward  laughter  that 
convulsed  her  should  burst  forth. 

Sir  Eoger  Trajenna,  a  little  surprised,  yet  bowed  with  gen- 
tlemanly ease,  while  the  three  young  men  sat  perfectly  thun- 
der-struck. 

The  dead  blank  was  broken  by  Dr.  Oleander. 

"  Permit  me  to  congratulate  Sir  IJoger  Trajenna,"  ho  said, 
bowing  to  tliat  gentleman;  "and  ])ermit  me  to  thank  Miss 
Dane  foi  tliis  exceedingly  unexi>ected  mark  of  preference.  If 
it  is  evor  in  my  power  to  return  your  condescension,  Miss 
Mollie,  believe  mo  you  will  find  my  memory  good.  1  wisli 
you  all  good-morning." 

iiis  immovable  face  had  not  changed,  but  his  gray  eyes 
flashed  one  bright,  fierce  glance  at  Mollie,  that  said,  plainly 
as  words,  "  I  will  have  revenge  for  this  insult  as  sure  as  my 
name  is  Guy  Oleander'.'' 

Put  saucy  Mollie  only  answered  that  sinister  look  by  her 
brightest  glance  and  smile;  and  taking  his  hat.  Dr.  Oleander 
strode  away. 

Then  Mr.  Sardonyx  arose.  Ho  had  been  sitting  like  a 
statue,  but  the  words  and  departure  of  his  fellow-victim 
seemed  to  restore  consciousness. 

"  Am  1  to  understand.  Miss  Dane,  that  tlii-s  is  the  answer 
you  meani  when  you  invited  me  hero  to-day?"  he  stendy 
asked. 

"  Did  1  really  invite  you?  Oh.,  yes!  Of  course,  Mr.  Sar- 
donyx, it  mu«t  have  Ijiiu.  1  purposely  kojit  njy  engagement 
secret  since  my  return  from  W'asliington  in  order  to  give  you 
an  agreeable  surprise." 

"  I  am  extx'cdingly  obiigod  to  you.  IJelievc  me,  I  will  prt)''^? 
my  gratitude  if  ever  opportunity  oilers," 


THE    UNSET5N    imiDEfiROOM. 


43 


Miss  Dane  bowed  and  smiled.  ISir  Itogcr  looked  hopelessly 
bewildered.     Mr.  Sardonyx  took  his  hat. 

"  Farewell,  Miss  Dune,  and  many  thanks." 

He  was  gone.  Hugh  Ingolow  ulono  remained — Hngh  Inge- 
low,  white  and  cold  .as  a  dead  man.  J.loilie'.s  heart  smote  her 
cnioUy  for  the  second  time  at  sight  oi'  him.  He  arose  as  the 
lawycn'  disappeared. 

"■  You  have  nothing  more  to  say  to  me,  Miss  Dane?" 

MoUie  lifted  her  eyebrows. 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Ingclow,  what  should  I  possibly  have  to  say 
to  you,  except  that  wo  will  always  be  most  happy  to  seo  you — 
Sir  Koger  and  1?" 

"  Always,"  echoed  the  baronet,  with  a  stately  bend. 

"You  are  very  kind.  (Jood-day,  Sir  Koger  Trajenna. 
Congratulations  on  so  eminently  suitable  a  match  would  be 
I)repostcrous.  Farewell,  Miss  Dane.  I,  tco,  know  how  to  re- 
member!" 

With  the  words  he  passed  out.  Sir  Koger  turned  with 
something  like  a  frown  to  his  bride-elect. 

"  What  does  it  mean,  Mollie?" 

Mollie  laughed — such  a  gay,  girlish  laugh! 

"Can't  you  see,  Sir  Iioger?  They  are  nearly  frantic  with 
jealousy,  the  three  of  tluTii.  What  fim  it  was  to  see  them 
sitting  tlicro  and  scowling  at  one  another!" 

"  Hut  they  threatened,  did  they  not?"  the  baronet  asked, 
t;Li'-  frowning. 

'  i)id  they?    They  said  they  would  remember,  and  I  think 
'.  li  ^  "y  likely  tlioy  will.     I'oor  fellows!     Jt  was  natural,  and 
1  «'&  i'fc  mind." 

"■'  Aud  when  am  I  to  speak  to  your  guardian  now?" 

"  As  soon  as  you  please — after  luncheon,  if  you  like.  I 
don't  suppose  ho'll  object," 

"  Certui'  Iv  not,"  Sir  Koger  said,  proudly;  "  and  then,  my 
dearest,  when  am  I  to  have  my  lovely  liltle  wife?" 

"  Oh,  1  don't  know!  It  isn't  well  to  bo  in  any  hurry. 
Wait  a  year  or  two." 

"  A  year  or  two!"  cried  Sir  Koger,  in  much  the  same  ton« 
as  if  she  had  said  a  (X'ntiiry  or  two.  "  Impossible — utterly 
ini|)<w'^ij,)le,  Mollie!" 

''  Well,  then,  a  month  or  two.  1  am  not  in  uny  hurry  to 
bo  marrioil,  and  I  don't  see  why  ym  nhoidd  be." 

"  My  darling  little  Mollies  if  yon  loved  me  luilt  as  much  as 
I  love  you,  yoii  would  understand.  And  you  will  really  be 
mine  in  h  month?" 


44 


THE    LNSEEN    lUlIDEGHOOM. 


"  Or  two.  Yes,  if  yoti  insist  upon  it.  If  I  am  to  be  Lady 
^J'rajonini  lirst  or  last,  it  may  as  well  be  first,  I  suppose." 

"^  AihI  you  will  unt  cliiin;^re  your  niiiKl?" 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  Mollie,  iiuli^^-nantly.  "  When  Mollio 
Dane  givei  her  wnl,  tiu;  laws  of  tho  Akdes  anil — what's  their 
naint's? — are  nothing'  to  it.  J)on't  ttase,  tSir  lioger.  AVhen  1 
promise  a  th'^rr   it^  as  j^ood  as  done.'' 

Mollie  dan  '  ■  v  to  the  j^iano,  and  htld  her  infatuated 
banniet  spiIl-bo  iitil  luncheon  tini-,'. 

At  tab!-;  Mr.  ai:  Irs.  Walraveii  nut  lin  m.  and  immediate- 
ly after  the  meal  th>?  baronet  formally  rcfjucsted  the  pleasure 
of  a  piivale  iriter\  ieiv. 

"  Can  he  really  be  goinj:;  to  a^k  for  Mollii'?"  thought  Mr. 
Walravvn.  '*  Upon  juy  word,  if  lie  1;^,  this  is  quite  a  new  rul" 
for  me — playing  the  |.iirt  of  venerable  2)arent,  and  that  to  t; 
white-haired  g.ntb'Uian  who  numbers  a  round  score  more 
years  than  myself." 

He  led  the  way  to  his  study,  followed  bv  (ho  baronet.  And 
Sir  IJoger  eame  to  tho  point  al  once,  calmly,  j)roudly,  with 
grave  dignity. 

"  The  di-parity  of  years  is  great,  I  know,"  he  said.  "  lUit 
if  she  is  willing  to  oveiloe.k  that  objecti(.n,  you  surely  nmy. 
There  is  no  other  dratvback  that  I  am  awaie  of.  A  ^rrajtMma, 
of  Trajf-nna,  might  mate  with  tht;  highest  in  England. " 

lie  lifted  his  white,  erect  head  haughtily,  and  looked  Carl 
Walraven  full  in  the  fuee.  Jlr.  Wiilravcn  held  out  his  hand 
ami  grasped  the  b;ironet's  cordially. 

"  My  d^ar  Sir  I'n'ger,  I  am  j)roud  and  hiippy  beyond  ex- 
j)re3sion.  Mollie  may  <  onsi  ler  herself  a  fortimate  girl  to  es- 
cape the  wild  young  scapegraces  who  dangle  after  her,  and 
find  a  hus'eand  in  a  man  like  you.  She  stands  alone  in  the 
world,  poor  child,  without  father  or  mother.  You,  ISir  lioger, 
must  be  all  the  world  to  her  now." 

"  Ibaven  iKlttinc  me.  I  will!"  tlic  old  man  said,  earnestly. 
"  My  whole  life  .-hull  be  devoted  io  lier  liiippiness. " 

"And  when  is  it  to  be?"  Mr.  \Vidr;i\i'ii  asked,  with  a 
Fmil  *.     '*  I  pn  -iiime  you  and  Mollis  hiive  settled  thai;"* 

"  In  two  moii'liS.  It  will  be  spiioe  then;  ar.d  we  can  start 
at  once  f'r  Waleo.  1  long  to  show  my  laiiy  iaide  old  Tin- 
jenna  Ca<?t!e." 

"  We  ^h  ill  mi-ij  her  very  mie]!:"  and  Cnrl  Walraven  .si;.hed 
in  good  earnest  as  he  said  it.  ''  8'k'  ha-  been  the  sunlight  of 
our  houie.  My  poor  oltl  mother  will  aimoHt  le.  ek  her  Ijearl; 
but  it  1-  f  (r  Mi.Ilit:'t;  jL'Ood,  lurl  a'i  Nellj.di  considerations  muht 
jjirc  *ay.     You  are  aware,  »Sir  lioger,  tihe  hab  no  dower?" 


THE    UXPEEN"    RnTDEGROOM. 


4.5 


*'  Sho  nc'oda  none,"  Sir  Ko<.^er  said,  proudly.  "  My  foituno 
jfl  princely;  hf^r  settlements  slial]  be  as  ample  lis  though  sha 
v.-f:ro  heireus  to  milliou;'.  I  bt-liiPu  tlvre  is  noihiug  mon*,  Mr, 
W'alravon,  and  so  let  na  rejf-in  the  liidies. '^ 

'J'ho  n'i'.v.s  .spread  like  wihllir* —'he  avi  nuo  was  elf ( I rilifd, 
Mollie  Daiio— -little,  corpiettish  Mol'io  Daiio — sprung  from  no- 
body kni!vv  where,  to  curry  oil  the  areaL  Welsh  baronet,  in 
spite  of  them  all.     The  man  must  be  in  his  dolB^^a'! 

Mr.  Wairaven'd  ant^•CL'dent.s  were  myritorlous  etioui:li,  in  all 
consuienee;  but  tlio  antecedents  oi  this  wild  ward  of  his  were 
tt'n  timerf  more  yo.  ]>ut,  in  npite  of  all,  the  engagement  waa 
an  accomplished  fact. 

Every  day,  beneath  the  baleful  glare  of  angry  female  eyes, 
Mollie  bane  went  riding  and  driving  anl  walking  with  tho 
stately,  white-haired  old  nullior.aire,  who  bent  over  her  as 
obsequiously  jis  though  she  were  a  duchess  born. 

The  women  might  go  wild  with  envy,  the  men  go  mad  with 
jealousy;  bnt  the  davs  and  the  weeks  went  on,  and  the  fairy 
grew  more  radiantly  beautiful  with  each.  And  the  wedding- 
day  came,  and  the  guests  were  bidden,  and  all  was  ready,  on 
a  scale  of  unparalleled  miigndicenco.  And  who  was  to  know 
the  wedding  would  never  hv? 

Mollie's  bririal  night!  '^I'he  big  brown-stone  mansion  wa,-i 
one  blaze  of  light.  The  ceremony  Wiis  to  take  place  in  the 
lofty  <l"awing-room,  and  be  follow  d  by  a  ball.  This  some- 
what obsolete  way  (tf  doing  tidngs  was  by  the  express  desire  of 
Sir  Uogin-.  and  on  the  morrow  they  were  to  start  by  steamer 
for  the  old  lanil.  It  was  all  one  to  Molhe,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Walraven  acijuiesced  in  every  wish  of  the  Welshnuin. 

The  hour  lix'd  for  the  ceremony  was  ten  o'clock.  It  was 
nearly  nine,  and  up  in  her  own  room  the  bride  stood,  under 
the  hands  of  her  nuiid,  robi'd  for  I  he  sacrifice. 

it  was  a  saca'illce,  though  giddy  Mollie  had  never  thought  it 
,80  before.  Now,  when  it  was  too  late,  her  heart  began  tti  fail 
hor. 

He  was  dreadfully  ohl,  this  stalely  Sir  IJoger.  She  didn't 
care  for  him  iti  the  U^atit,  except  as  she  might  care  for  some 
nice  old  g'undfather;  and  then  there  was  Hugh  Ingelow — 
liundsome  II  ugh  I 

IJut  at  this  point  Cricket  caught  hor  breath  and  her 
thoughts  with  a  gasp. 

"  Mollie,  Mollie.  Moliiel  Uow  dare  you,  you  wicked,  crazy 
girll  Thinking  of  Ilugdi  Fn;,'!  low,  when  you  oughtn't  to  re- 
member there's  another  nnm  alive  but  Sir  lioger  Trajeiuial  I 
wouldn't  marry  poor  llu;,di  when  he  wanted  me— a  lucky 


46 


THE    UNSEEN"    I'.UI  PEG  ROOM. 


es(;aj)e  for  him — antl  I'm  nol.  going  to  pine  away  for  him  now, 
wlioii  it's  hi^'li  treason  to  do  it." 

"  Hurry,  Margaret, "  the  bride  said  aloud.  "  Malio  mo  ju.st 
as  pretty  as  ever  you  van." 

The  three  vej(M!ted  Kiiitors  Ir.ul  beon  invited  to  tiio  bridal 
hall,  and,  singuliir  to  relate,  had  come. 

But  their  discomfiture  had  been  so  singular  altogether  that 
perhaps  they  thought  it  as  well  to  match  Mollie  in  (.'oohiess. 

There  they  were  at  least,  regarding  one  another  in  th-.)  odd- 
eat  way,  and  Mrs.  Walraven,  gorgeous  in  amlior  moire,  siilled 
up  to  her  cousin,  and  hissed  venomously  in  his  ear: 

"  So  the  vicious  Guy  Oleatuler  has  lost  his  little  game, 
after  alll  Blue-eyed  AloUie  is  destined  to  be  '  My  Lady,'  iu 
spite  of  his  teeth. " 

"  '  There  is  many  a  slip ' — you  know  the  jiroverb,  madarao. ' 

It  was  all  he  said;  but  his  sinister  smile,  as  he  moved  away, 
said  a  great  deal. 

Hugh  Ingelow,  very  pale,  stood  leaning  against  a  marble 
column,  all  wreathed  with  festal  roses,  not  as  white  as  his  own 
handsome  face. 

"What  are  they  plotting,  1  vender?"  he  thought.  "No 
good  to  her.  They  hate  hor,  as  I  ought  to,  but  as  I  can't, 
poor,  pitiful  fool  that  I  ami  liut  my  time  may  come,  too.  ,1 
said  i  would  not  forget,  and  will  not." 

The  bride-maids,  a  gay  group  of  girls,  came  lluttering  into 
the  "  nuwde?i  bower  "  to  see  if  the  briile  was  ready. 

"  For  the  clergyman  is  down-staiis,  anJ  the  guests  are  as- 
sembled, and  Sir  Roger  is  waiting,  and  nothing  is  needed  but 
the  bride." 

"A  very  essential  need,"  res])onded  Mollie.  "I'm  not 
going  to  hurry  myself;  they  can't  get  along  without  me.  A 
letter,  Jjucy?     Fur  me?     From  whom,  1  wonder?" 

The  girl  had  entered,  bearing  a  note  in  a  buiT  envelope,  ad- 
dressed, in  a  sprawling  hand,  to  "  Miss  Mollie  Dane." 

"  Tiio  young  person  that  brought  it  is  waiting  in  the  hall, 
misi,"  said  Lucy.  "  I  didn't  want  to  take  it,  and  1  told  her 
you  was  just  about  getting  married,  but  it  was  no  u^e.  She 
said  it  was  a  matter  of  life  or  death,  and  you'd  be  .sure  to  p.iy 
attention  to  it  if  you  were  before.tho  altar." 

But  Mollie  had  not  listened.  She  tore  open  the  bull  en- 
velo[)e,  and  the  gazers  saw  her  turn  deathly  })ale  as  she  read. 

She  crushed  the  letter  in  ber  hand  and  turned  impetuously 
to  the  girl. 

"  Where  is  the  person  \rho  brought  this?    1  must  seu  her 


THE    UNSEEN    BRIDEGROOM. 


4? 


at  oneo.  Briiip;  her  here;  and  you,  young  ladies,  let  me  speak 
two  words  1,0  her  in  private." 

Tiu'  youn^f  ladies  trooped  out,"and  the  bride  was  loft  alone, 
paler  than  her  snowy  robes. 

A  moment,  and  Lucy  was  back  with  the  bearer  of  the  let- 
ter, a  res[)ectable-lookiiig  young  person  enough. 

Lucy  left  her  mistress  and  the  girl  standing  together.  Five 
minutes  after  the  bell  rang  sharply.  Lucy  hastened  back;  on 
the  threshold  the  bride  met  and  stopjied  her,  with  a  white, 
startled  face. 

"  Tell  them  to  postpone  the  ceremony  for  an  hour,  Lucy. 
Com.8  back  here  then.  For  the  next  hour  1  wish  to  be  left 
alone,     'd'ell  AFr.  Walraven. " 

She  shut  the  door  in  the  ama^^cd  attendant's  face.  Lucy 
heard  the  key  turn.  A  second  she  stood  jjetrifled,  then  she 
hastened  olT  to  deliver  her  message. 

Mr.  Wah'aven  stood  aghast.  Lucy  was  jilied  with  ques- 
tions. Who  was  the  girl?  What  was  she  like?  What  had 
she  said?     Where  had  she  come  from? 

8ir  Koger  was  wildly  alarmed  at  first,  but  Mr.  Walraven 
reassured  him.  The  company  waited,  on  the  qui  rirc,  for 
they  knew  not  what.  Fleven  o'clock  came.  Jjucy  went  up 
to  the  bride's  room;  the  door  was  still  fast;  she  knocked — 
there  was  no  reply;  she  called — there  was  no  answer.  Then 
Lucy  screamed,  and  in  a  twinkling  a  crowd  was  around  the 
doer.  They  shook  it,  they  rapped,  they  called,  all  in  vain. 
Dead  silence  reigned. 

"  Force  the  door!"  exclaimed  Carl  Walraven,  hoarsely. 

Strong  men  for(;ed  it.  'I'hero  was  a  rush  in,  a  recoil,  a  cry 
of  consternation,  for  the  ai)artment  was  em])ty;  the  bird  had 
flown. 

How  the  search  began  no  one  ever  knew,  but  begin  it  did. 
The  house  was  hunted  from  top  to  bottom;  still  in  vain.  Not 
a  trace  of  the  bride  could  bo  found. 

The  wedding  i>arty  dispersed  in  wild  confusion,  but  the 
search  went  on.  Through  the  night  it  lasted;  but  morning 
broke,  and  still  no  trace.  'J'he  bride  had  disappeared  as  if 
the  earth  hail  opened  and  swallowed  her  up! 


onAPTKR  vn. 

wrii:i,!:  iiiiv  nniitH  wam. 

TnE  letter  in  the  bull  envelope  which  had  so  startled  Rroliio 
was  very  l)rief.  There  were  but  ei^ht  er  nine  lines,  wrctch» 
edly  scrawled: 


48 


THE    UNSEEN    BKIDEGKOOM. 


"  iMoLi.iK  I'ANF. — Come  to  nio  at  once,  i'  yoii  v/ant  to  (Inil 
nut  wlio  yon  .ire,  wlio  your  parents  were,  what  I'iul  Wiilravcn 
is  to  you.  Tiiin  is  your  vvediling-night;  but  come.  J  am  very 
ill — (lying;  1  niiiy  not  see  morning.  If  you  di'luy,  it  will  be 
too  late.  Tlie  btM:L'r  is  my  friend;  she  will  conduot  you  to 
me.  Tell  no  one.  Carl  Walraven  will  prevent  you,  if  ho 
can.     I  say  to  you,  come— come — come. 

"Mjuiam." 


If  there  was  one  tiling  on  eartli  that  flighty  Moliio  was  really 
in  earnest  about,  it  was  in  knowing  her  own  history,  lltr 
marriage  sunk  into  insignitieanoe  in  compaiiaon. 

tShii  dispat'  bed  Lucy  at  cnce  for  the  bearer  of  the  note,  sent 
her  friends  to  tlio  rigliL-abnut,  and  clustded  herself  with  tho 
young  woman — a  pale  young  woman,  wiih  darl;  eyes  and  an 
intelligent  face. 

*'  \Cho  are  you?"  abruptly  demanded  the  bride,  looking 
curiously  at  her. 

"Sarah  Grant,"  answered  the  young  woman — "a  sho])- 
girl." 

"  Who  sent  you  with  this  note?" 

"  A  woman  who  lodges  in  the  f-amo  liousc — a  I  all,  gauut, 
half-crazcl  lnoking  crealure.     (She  is  dangerously  ill." 

Tho  girl  ansuered  straighiforwaidly,  gazing  round  her  tho 
while  in  o[)en-eyed  admiration. 

"■  Do  vou  know  her  name?" 

"  We  call  her  old  Miriam:  she  refuses  to  tell  her  name.  1 
have  done  lil;tle  things  for  her  since  she  has  been  ill,  and  eho 
begged  me  so  hard  to  fetch  you  this  letter  that  1  could  not  re- 
fuse." 

"  Do  you  know  its  contents?" 

"  Only  that  you  are  expected  to  return  with  mc.  She  told 
mt!  that  she  iiaJ  sometliujg  to  say  to  you  that  you  would  give 
half  your  life  to  hear." 

*'  is  the  house  fur  from  this?" 

"Yes,  mi.NS,  a  long  way;  but  1  came  iji  a  carriage.  It  is 
waiting  lound  the  corner.  Miriam  told  me  to  hurry;  that  it 
was  a  matter  of  life  or  death,  and  she  gave  me  money  to  pay 
for  tho  hack.  It  was  absolutely  necessary  you  lihould  know, 
ehe  said,  before  you  ma'Tied  any  one." 

Mollie  miisbd  a  momr-'it.  She  never  thought  of  doubting 
rU  tliici.  Of  courtsf'.,  Miriam  knew  all  about  her,  and  of  courao 
it  was  likely  she  would  wish  to  tell  her  on  her  death-bed. 

"  T  will  go,"  she  .said.,  suddenly.     "  W.iit  ouo  inslanU" 

She  summouud  the  burvuut,  gave  her  the  mcsBagc  that  had 


THE    UNSEEN    BRIDEOROOM. 


49 


caused  such  consternation,  locki'd  the  door,  ami  thraw  over 
her  glittoring  bridal  robes  a  long  vvattT-t)roof  cloak  thut  cov- 
ered her  fiom  head  to  foot.  Drawing  the  iiood  over  her  head, 
.she  stood  ready. 

•'  Now,"  said  Mina  Dane,  ra[)i(lly,  "  we  will  not  p^o  ont  by 
the  front  door,  because  I  don't  want  any  one  to  know  I  have 
quitted  the  liouse.     Come  this  way." 

She  opened  one  of  the  long  windows  and  stepped  out  on  the 
j)ia/.'/a.     Sarah  followed. 

Some  distance  on  there  was  a  llight  of  stairs  leading  to  a 
paved  back-yard,  'i'hey  descended  the  stairs,  walked  down 
the  yard,  passed  through  a  little  gate,  and  stood  in  the 
street,  under  the  bright  ni^jht  sky. 

"  Now,  Miss  Grant,"  said   Mollie, 


■ii 


car- 


,'j" 


wuere    is  your 
riage;" 

"  At  the  corner  of  tlie  avenue,  miss.     This  way." 

Two  minutes  brought  them  to  the  corner.  There  stood  the 
hack. 

Sarah  made  a  motion  for  Miss  Dane  to  prccodo  her.  Mollio 
stepped  in;  tlu;  giid  followed,  clo.Mng  the  door  securely  after 
her,  and  the  hack  started  at  a  furious  pace. 

"  IIow  dark  it  is!"  exclaimed  Mollie,  impiitieutly.  "You 
sliould  make  your  driver  light  up,  MiLis  (Irant." 

"  There  is  sullicient  light  for  our  work."  a  voice  awswered. 

Mollie  recoiled  with  a  slight  shriek,  for  it  was  not  the  voice 
of  Sarah  Cirant. 

A  dark  ligure  started  out  of  the  corner  on  the  moment,  her 
hands  were  grasped,  and  a  handkerchief  swifily  and  surely 
bound  round  her  mouth.  It  was  no  longer  in  her  j)ower  to 
raise  an  alarm. 

"  Now  bind  her  eyes,  Sarah,  "  said  the  voice.  "  I'll  secure 
her  hands.  My  pretty  bird,  it's  of  no  use  struggling.  You're 
wifely  and  surely  snared." 

ller  eyes  were  baiulagcd,  her  hands  bound,  and  Mollie  ortt 
utterly  helpless  and  bcwddered— a  prisoner. 

She  could  neither  see,  nor  move,  nor  speak.  The  hack  was 
rattling  at  a  fearftd  i)ace  over  the  stony  streets.  Its  noise 
would  have  drowned  her  cries  had  it  been  in  her  power  to  utter 
any. 

"  Now,  my  dear  Miss  Dane,"  said  that  unknown  voice,  very 
close  to  her  ear,  and  all  at  once,  in  French,  "  I'll  answer  all 
the  (piestions  I  know  you  are  dying  to  ask  at  this  moment, 
and  answer  them  truthfully.  1  hju  ak  in  French,  that  the 
good  Sarah  beside  us  may  not  comiiiehend.  Vou  understand 
the  language,  I  know." 


50 


THE    UNSEKK    lilMDEGllOOM. 


lie  knew  her,  then!  And  yot  she  utterly  'ailed  to  recoj^nizo 
lh»t  voice. 

"  Jn  tlie  first  ])lacp,  wluil  does  all  this  mean?  Wiiy  this 
decei)tion — this  al)(iiu:tioii?  Who  am  I?  Where  are  you  be- 
hi<?  taken?  When  are  you  to  be  restored  to  your  friends? 
This  is  what  you  would  ask,  is  it  iidt?  Very  well;  now  to 
answer  you.  What  does  this  mean?  Why,  it  means  that  you 
have  made  an  enemy,  by  your  atroeinus  llirting,  of  one  whom 
you  cruelly  and  shamefully  jilted,  who  has  vowed  venj^funec', 
and  who  knows  how  to  keep  that  vow.  Why  this  dece|il,ion — 
this  abihuition?  Well,  without  deception  it  was  impot-.sible  to 
get  you  away,  and  we  know  just  enough  about  you  to  serve 
our  purpose.  Miriam  never  sent  that  note;  but  Miriam  exists. 
Who  am  I?  Why,  I  am  that  enemy — if  one  can  be  your 
enemy  who  loves  you  to  nuidness— a  nuin  you  cruelly  taught 
to  love  you,  and  then  scornfully  refused.  Where  are  you 
being  talien?  To  a  safe  jjlace,  my  charming  IVIollie — safe  as 
'  that  deepest  dungeon  beneath  tjie  castle  moat '  which  you 
liave  read  of.  When  are  you  to  be  restored  to  your  friends? 
When  you  have  been  my  wife  one  week — not  an  instant 
sooner." 

Mollie,  bound  and  blindfolded,  made  one  frantic  gesture. 
The  man  by  her  side  understood. 

"  That  means  you  won't,"  lie  sjiid,  coolly.  "  Ah,  my  fairy 
Mollie,  imprisonment  is  a  hard  thing  to  bear!  I  love  you  vi^ry 
dearly,  1  admire  your  Ingh  spirit  intensely;  but  even  eaglets 
have  had  their  wings  clipped  before  now.  You  treated  mo 
mercilessly — I  am  going  to  be  merciless  in  my  Liu'i  You 
don't  care  for  this  old  num  I  have  saved  you  from  marrying. 
I  am  young  and  good-looking — I  blush  as  1  say  it — a  far  more 
suitable  husband  ior  you  than  he.  You  are  trying  to  recog- 
nize my  voice  and  place  me,  I  know.  Jjeave  oil"  trying,  my 
dearest;  you  never  will.  I  am  j)erfectly  disguised — voice, 
face,  llgiire.  W'hen  we  part  you  will  be  no  wiser  than  you 
are  now." 

lie  ceased  speaking.  The  carriage  rattled  on  and  on 
through  the  shining,  starlit  night  for  endless  hours,  it  seemed 
to  Mollie. 

Oh,  where  were  they  going,  and  what  was  to  become  of  her? 
Was  it  a  frightful  reality,  or  oidy  a  dicam?  Was  she  really 
the  same  girl  who  this  night  was  to  have  been  the  bride  of  a 
baronet?  W'as  this  the  nineteenth  century  and  New  York 
City,  or  a  chapter  out  of  some  old  Venetian  romance? 

The  carriage  stopped  at  last;  she  heard  the  door  open,  she 
felt  herself  lifted  out;  there  was  a  rush  of  cold  air  for  an  in- 


THr;    UNSKEN    intlDEOROOM. 


51 


ttuiit,  tliin  tlioy  eiitored  aliourfu;  a  door  closed  behind  them, 
un;l  slio  wii-!  hein;;  bonin  upstairs  uiid  into  u  room. 

"  T\'')w  tli;it  wo  liavc  iirrivi'd,  Miss  .Mollic,"  said  tl)at  stranizo 
voice,  "  wo  H'ill  iiobind  you,  and  you  ruall''  must  overlook  tho 
hard  iieccr'sity  which  conijipjled  so  ftrdutr  a  coiir.so  toward  a 
la  ly.  I  i,Mvo  yuii  fair  warning,'  thai  it  w'il  bo  of  no  u>ni  strain- 
ing your  liiii^s  scriaming;  for  if  you  bln'iel\ed  for  a  month, 
no  onn  would  hear  you  tiirough  "those  padded  walls.  Mow, 
th.'n:-' 

lie  took  the  gag  from  her  mouth,  and  Mollio  eau/xht  her 
breath  with  a  gas]).  llu  untied  tlu!  bandage  round  her  I'ves, 
anii  for  a  sucond  or  two  s-he  was  daxzleil  In  tin-  .iidden  blazo 
of  light.  1  ho  instant  she  could  see,  she  turned  lull  upon  hor 
ab'luctor. 

Alas  and  ala';  ho  wore  a  bluek  mask,  a  llowing  wig,  a 
\)eard,  and  a  long  cloak  reachiiig  to  the  lluor. 

lie  wad  a  tall  man— that  was  tlu!  only  thing  Mcdlie  could 
make  out  of  the  di^iguisu. 

"Miss  Daiuidoes  m)t  spare  me;  but  it  is  all  in  vain.  Slio 
mi\y  ga:',()  until  htM-  l(»vely  eyes  dri'))  from  their  sockets,  and 
i  Ik;  will  not  recogril/ce  me.  Ami  liow  1  will  li'avti  you.  1  will 
intrude  upon  you  as  litthf  as  is  al'solutely  jiossible.  jfyou 
need  a?iyLliing.  ring  the  bell.  (Jood-night,  my  beautiful 
Mollic,  and  ha]»]>y  dream.;." 

Jle  bowed  polilelv  and  moved  toward  tho  door.  Mollie 
mail'  a  ste[)  towartl  him,  with  upraised  arm: 

".Stay!" 

The  man  halted  at  once. 

"  How  long  am  1  to  be  imprisoned  here?" 

"  My  fair  one,  I  toLl  you  before:  until  you  consent  to  be- 
come my  wife." 

"Are  you  mad?"  exclaimed  Mollie,  scornfully;  "or  do 
you  think  I  am?  Your  wife!  J  am  here  in  your  power — kill 
me,  if  you  dare,  you  cowardly  abiluctoil  1  will  die  ten  thou- 
sand deaths—  I'll  live  on  here  until  my  heail  is  hoary — I'll  dash 
my  brains  out  against  yonder  wall,  but  I'll  never,  never,  never 
become  your  wife!" 

Tiie  man  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Strong  language,  my  dear;  but  words,  words,  wordsl  1 
won't  kill  you,  and  you  won't  live  here  until  your  head  is 
lioary.  Cioiden  loiiks  like  yours  are  a  long  time  turning  gray. 
And  you  won't  dash  your  brains  out  against  the  walls,  beeauso 
the  walls  are  padded.  Is  tliore  auvihing  else  vou  wisli  to  sav, 
Miss  Dane?" 

"  Only  this,"  with  blazing  eyes,  "  that  whoever  you  are, 


09 


THE    UNSEF.N    KRIOEGROOM. 


you  aro  the  vile:^t,  bisost,  iiiosb  cowunlly  wretch  on  tho  wide 
earth!    (lo!     I  wouNi  inunler  you  if  I  was  iihlol" 

"  Not  i\  floubt  ol'  it,  luy  iiii^'t'll     Oiico  uiorc,  good-niyhtl" 
IIu   bovvbil  low,  piis-Jiici  out,  iuul  locked  tho  door.     Alollio 
was  aloiH'  in  Iut  pri.soii. 

Now,  littli!  ('ri(;ket,  fairy  th:it  slio  wua,  was  yet  bravo  as  any 
giantess.  Not  a  dnp  of  craven  blood  llowed  in  her  .s[)iriied 
veins.  Tiierel'ons  left  alone,  she  neither  wept,  nor  raved,  nor 
tore  her  hair;  but  took  a  prolon;;ed  survey  of  lier  siuround- 
iuos. 

It  was  a  hirgo,  lofty  room,  lighted  by  a  sinj^lo  gas-jet,  de- 
pemkiut  from  tlie  i;eiling.  The  four  walla  were  tbiokly 
waJiled,  and  tliero  were  no  winilows,  only  one  dcor,  no  i)iet- 
iires,  no  mirror — notbin;^  but  a  few  stutTetl  eliuirs,  a  table,  a 
lavatory,  a  bed.  J)ay-tlnie  and  nij^ht-timo  would  be  tho  same 
here. 

"  Well,"  said  Mollie  to  herself,  drawing  a  long  breath,  "  if 
tills  does  not  cap  the  t,'lobv'I  Am  I  really  Mollie  Dane,  and  is 
this  New  York  Citv,  or  am  1  ])laying  private  theatricals,  and 
gone  back  to  tlu;  Dark  Ages?  Who,  in  the  wide  world,  is  that 
mysterious  man?  And,  oh  1  what  will  they  say  at  home  this 
dreadful  nighl?'* 

.She  removed  her  cunibersomo  mantle  and  threw  it  upon  the 
bed,  looking  ruefully  about  her. 

"  I  wonder  how  long  I  am  to  be  kept  hens?  Of  course,  I'll 
never  yielil;  but  it's  going  to  be  frightful,  if  I  am  to  be  im- 
prisoned for  weeks  and  weeks.  I  won't  ring  for  Uiiit  deoei'ful 
Sarali  Grant,  and  I'll  never  give  in,  if  they  keep  me  until  tho 
day  of  ju.lgment." 

tShe  bewail  p:u:ing  up  and  down  the  room.  Death-like  still- 
ness reijrned.  Hours  pa.^'Sed.  Weary  with  tho  long  drive,  she 
threw  herself  upon  the  bed  at  last,  and  fell  fast  asleep. 

A  noise  near  auoke  her  after  a  prolonged  slumber.  She 
looked  up;  the  gas  still  burned,  but  she  was  no  longer  alone. 
iSarah  stood  b'/  the  table,  arranging  a  temi»ting  brcalifast. 

"  What's  that?"  ab'       "     " 

►Sarah  court.'siod  respectfidly. 

"  Your  breakfast,  nuss. " 

"  It  is  to-morrow,  then?"  said  Mollie. 

"  It  is  to-day,  miss,"  responded  the  girl,  with  a  smile. 

"What's  the  hour?" 

"  Past  eight.  Miss  Dane." 

"  Aro  you  gning  to  stay  here  with  me?" 

"  No,  miss." 


uptly  demanded  Mollie. 


ti 
ti. 


THi:     IKSKKN    BnTDF.GUOOM. 


03 


"  Wliy  ili  1  voii  toll  mo  fiK^h  lies  last  ni;:;lit,  you  bliiunoful 
girl?" 

"  I  to!iI  von  what  I  wuu  ordered  to  tell  you.'* 

"  Bv  whonir' 

'*  Mv  niiiBtir." 

"  Who  it-  your  miiater?     OIJ  Siitati?" 

"  I  ho[«(  not.  mi-*-!. " 

"  Who,  thru?     Whiit  iri  his  nnmo:" 

"  Exoiiso  ni(*.  Mi.-M  Diiiu',"  uiiid  tiio  girl,  quietly.  "  I.  rnuat 
an.-'wor  no  (ineritioo:;. " 

"  ^'ou  ivi'  H  hiird-hpiirtod  creature,  and  yen  on^'h';  to  hu 
i!s!i!»meil  of  yourrfvlf!"  exclaitncd  Mollie,  iudij^nautly. 
*'  \\  here  is  v'jur  muster?     ifcrc?" 

"  Mi~8  Dane,  ]  repeat  il. —  1  can  answer  no  rin.-  ions,  atul  I 
must  po.     Hero  is  vour  breakfast.     I  hopes  you  will  enjov  it." 

"Yes,"  said  Mollie,  scornfnUy,  "  it  is  vo.-v  l.ki'ly  I'dmll 
enjoy  eatinj,'  and  drinkiii;^'  iii  this  plarel  'I'ake  it  away.  1 
don't  want  victual  • — I  mean  to  starve  mvsclf  to  death." 

l)Ut  elie  lo'/kcd  at  the  table  as  t*he  f-p  )ke,  and  w;m  inwjirdlv 
not  at  all  dispk-asi'd  tos(0  the  gr.KliMi  coii'ce,  the  buckwheat 
cakes,  the  cLrtrs,  and  ham,  and  toast. 

"  r  s!)a!l  hrini,^  you  your  dinner  at  noon,  mis.s."  said  Saridi, 
moviu},'  toward  tln^  dimr,  and  not  heediii'^  her.  "  If  you  want 
me  before  noon,  please  to  riii'.'. " 

*'  Slop!"  said  Mullie.  "  And,  oli,  for  goodness  gracious 
sake,  do  tell  mo  whoro  I  ami" 

She  held  uj)  her  ba;ids  imploringly — poor,  cagcl  little  star- 
ling! 

"  I  am  sorry,  miss,"  Sarah  said,  and  her  fane  showed  it; 
"  hut  indeed — indeed  J  can't  I  I  daren't!  I've  promised,  and 
my  master  trusts  me.     1  can't  break  my  word." 

Sho  was  gone  as  she  spoke,  lurking  the  door  "gain,  and 
^rollie  got  up  with  a  lu'avy  sigh.  8ho  luid  takeu  olT  only  her 
outer  garments  befoio  Iving  down;  and  alter  washing,  and 
combing  out  her  bright  sillren  hair,  she  resumed  the  glittering, 
bride-like  liiu'ry  of  the  evening  before.  I'oor  M'.lliu  looked  at 
the  bilver-shining  silk,  the  cobweb  lace,  the  gleaming,  milky 
pearls,  with  a  very  rueful  face. 

"  And  1  was  to  have  been  awav  on  my  bridal  tour  by  this 
time,"  sliH  thought;  "  and  pour  Sir  Koger  is  half  mad  bcforo 
this,  J  kno»r.  Oh,  dear!  it'o  very  nit:c  to  read  al)Out  young 
ladies  being  carried  off  in  this  way,  but  the  reading  is  much 
nicer  than  the  icality.  J  shall  dlo  if  they  keep  me  hero  four- 
aud-twenty  hours  longer." 

liy  way  of  prcpariug  for  dcalli,  Miss  Vaao  promptly  sal 


51 


TSf   unseen  jsridegkoom. 


down  [,i>  the  table  and  eat  hor  breakfast  with  Iho  hearty  ap- 
petite  of  youth  Jiiul  good  health. 

"  It'tJ  better  than  Itoinii;  i'ed  on  breail  and  water,  anyhow/^ 
she  rctloeted,  as  she  thiirflicd;  "  but  J  sliould  ;j;really  prefer  the 
bread  and  water,  il'  sweetened  with  freedom.  Wliat  on  earth 
shall  I  do  with  myself?     If  they  had  only  left  me  a  bookl" 

Ihit  they  hadn't,  and  the  low^,  dull  hours  wore  on — how 
lo)ig  ;uid  how  dull  ojily  prisoners  know.  ]5ut  noon  eann;  at 
last,  and  with  it  eanie  Sarah,  carrying  a  sroond  tray.  J\Io!lie 
was  on  till!  watch  foi  the  door  to  open.  8he  had  some  vague 
idea  of  making  a  rush  for  it,  but  there  stood  a  stalwart  man 
on  guard. 

"  Hero  is  your  dinner,  Miss  Dane.  J  hope  you  liked  your 
breakfast." 

I'ut  the  sight  of  the  sentinel  without  had  n)ade  Mollie  .sulky, 
and  t;lie  tuniod  her  liack  uj)on  Ih"  girl  with  silent  eontemj't. 

Sarah  departed,  and  ^lollio  sidltred  her  dumer  to  stand  and 
grow  cold.  She  was  too  (iross  to  eat,  but  by  and  by  sho  awoke 
to  the  fact  that  she  was  hungry. 

"  And  then  it  will  help  to  pai's  the  time,"  thought  the  un- 
hapjiv  prisoner,  sitting  doivn.  "  ]f  I  could  cat  all  the  time,  I 
shoulilirt  so  mueh  mind." 

After  dinner  she  coiled  lierself  up  in  one  of  the  arm-ehaii"^ 
and  fell  fisleep.  .She  slept  long,  and  av»'oke  refreshed,  but 
what  thiv,  it  was  shu  could  imt  juilge;  eternal  gas-light  and 
sileruje  reigned  in  her  prison. 

"  Oh,  dear,  dearl  wliat  will  become  of  me  if  this  sort  of 
thing  gois  on?"  cried  Mollie,  rdoud,  staroiiig  up  and  wringing 
her  han.lri.  "  I  shall  go  stark,  starinir  m;!(l!  Oh,  what  crime 
did  my  father  and  mother  ever  (;om:uit,  that  their  sin  should 
be  viriited  upon  me  like  this?  I  wii!  stab  myself  with  the 
carving-knife  to-morrow,  after  dinner,  if  thi;::.  keeps  on!" 

Mollie  paced  up  and  down  like  a  bcdianute,  sobbing  and 
scolding  to  herself,  and  quito  broken  diwn  with  one  day's  iiu- 
prisonment. 

"1  thought  1  could  sttiid  it — I  thought  1  could  defy  him; 
I  had  no  idea  bring  imprisoned  was  so  awful.  I  wish  J  could 
die  and  lui'.ke  an  end  of  it!  I'd  starve  mys(df  to  death,  only  1 
get  so  dr(.'adfid  hungry,  and  I  daren't  cut  my  throat,  because 
the  sight  of  biood  makes  me  siek,  and  I  know  it  must  hurt. 
Oh,  Mollie  l)ane,  you  nuserable  little  wretch!  1  wish  you  had 
never  been  born!" 

Another  dieary  interval,  and  then  for  tho  third  time  CHiut 
8urah  bearing  a  tray. 


riTE    "i  NSKEN"    I5UIDEGU00>r. 


55 


"  Your  siipi)(jr. 


miss."  6i 


liil  SiUiil),  E^riiiig  thi'Oiigli  tho  I'or- 


iiiij'ffrs. 


miilii.      "  ]  li'tjie  you  likni]  \Tiur  (liiiofr." 

"Oil,   f:iki>  it  awiiyl"   ciic'ii   MulJic,   Iwi.sting  Ikm' 
"  1  I'iDir't  \>'iint  any  su|ii)er — I'm  go'A\<s  ';nizy,  I  lliiukl     Oh, 
wliiiL  a  Imrd,  liidly,  uufuoliiig  hoiirtyou  must  linve,  you  vvit;k(.ii 
youuf^  woniiiii!" 

JSarah  looked  at  her  ci-mpassionatuly. 

"  It  is  haul,  I  kuovv.  Kut  \v!iy  didn't  you.  do  as  master 
wi'^hed  you,  auil  gt  t  awuv?' 

"  Mai-ry  hinil  llow  dare  you?  I  vish  1  could  poison  liiml 
I'd  do  that  with  tlio  greatest  plua.-u.f. ' ' 

"  Tlicn  you  must  h;tay  ht-M-,  tni;^s,  for  weeks  and  weeks, 
monlii-ii  and  uiontlis,  and  every  day  be  like  tlds.  Your  friends 
will  never  lind  you — never!" 

"  Sarah,  look  here!  1  shall  bo  dead  in  a  week,  and  I'll 
haunt  you — I  vow  I  will!  I'll  haunt  you  until  I  make  your 
life  a  misery  to  you  I" 

8at;di  smiled  quietly. 

"  I  am  not  afraid,  uiiss.  You're  a  great  deal  too  young 
and  too  healthy  to  die;  and  you  won't  kill  ycniiielf,  for  life  is 
too  sweet,  even  in  pri.-:on.  The  best  thing  you  can  do  is  (o 
marry  master,  and  be  restored  to  your  friends." 

"Sarah  (Jrant — if  that  be  your  name,"  said  MoUie,  with 
awful  I  almness — "  go  away!  if  you  cudy  (;oni(>  here  to  ins'ult 
mo  like  that,  don't  ciitiu'  here  at  all." 

Sarah  eourte.-ied  respectfidly,  and  immediately  left,  lliit 
lier  words  had  made  their  mark.  In  s])ite  of  ^Mollie's  appeal- 
ing dignity,  any  avenue  of  eseapc — eveti  th;it — was  begiiuiliig 
to  look  inviting. 

"  Suppose  1  went  thro\igh  the  form  of  a  cen^mony  with  this 
man?''  museil  MoUii-.  "  It  woiddn't  mean  ■  nylhinL'.  y;iii 
know,  because  1  did  it  npon  compulsion;  and,  immediaftiv  J 
got  out,  1  should  go  straight  and  murry  Sm  IJoger.  lUit  I 
won't  do  it — of  couise,  1  won't!  I'll  be  imju'isoned  furever 
before  I  yield!" 

Uiit  you  know  it  has  got  to  be  a  ])rovcrb,  "  ^Vhen  a  woman 
hesitates,  she  is  lost."  Mollie  had  begun  to  hesiiat^o,  and 
Mollie  was  lost. 

All  that  long  niplit  she  never  slept  a  wink.  She  lay  awake, 
tossing  and  tumbling  on  the  bed,  or  pacing  up  and  down  the 
lloor.  in  i\  sort  of  delirious  fever.     And — 

"  If  1  thought  for  certain  sure  lui  would  let  me  go  after  the 
sham  ceiennniy  was  performed,  I  would  marry  him,"  was  the 
.conclusion  she  had  arrived  at  by  morning.  "  l\'o  nuUter  v.hai 
happens,  nothing  can  be  half  so  bjul  us  this." 


-J  6 


THE    VK-EEN     T!RII)T:GR00M. 


It  Wiv;  inoining,  tbough  MoIIie  did  not  know  it,  when  she 
threw  herself  on  ihv;  bed,  and  for  thu  second  time  fell  asleep. 
And  sleipiDg",  the  urnani^'d.  Siie  tvas  ttiindini;  up  before  the 
niiaiatcr,  to  be  mariied  Lo  Ihe  masked  man.  The  ceremony 
went  on — ^Jirium  was  bride-maid  and  Sir  lioger  Trajenna 
g'we  her  awav*.  The  certmony  ended,  the  briili  oro.'in  turned 
to  saliiLii  the  biide.  "  Ihit  ilcA  1  mual  icni'ive  my  mask,"  ho 
j-aid,  in  a  gtrangely  familiar  voice;  and  lii'iing  it  oil",  MoUio 
saw  bmilinLT  down  upoti  her  the  nu)ft  bvantiful  Ta!  e  ever  mor- 
tal wore,  lamiiiar  a^  the  voice,  yet  leaving;  lur  equally  unable 
to  place  it. 

It  may  seem  a  little  thing,  but  little  tiling*?  weigh  with 
young  ladies  in  Ihiir  scventeenih  year,  and  this  dream  turned 
"the,  scale.  MoUie  thought  about  it  a  great  deal  that  morning 
as  t^he  made  lier  toilet. 

"  J  wonder  if  lie  is  f-'o  very  handsome?  [  like  lnu;dsorae 
men,"  mused  Mollie.  "  He  told  me  ho  was,  and  I  know  ho 
must  be,  if  he  ever  wa.i  a  ilirtee  of  mine.  Mr.  Sardonyx  is 
the  plainerft  man  I  ever  let  nuike  love  to  me,  and  even  he  was 
not  ab.--:oIutclv  plain.  1  ehouhln't  wonder  i;"  my  eai)L«)r  \\:'n) 
Jie,  or  else  Doctor  Oleander.  Oh,  wliy — why — why  (-m't  I 
recognise  that  voice?" 

That  day  wore  on,  long,  drearily,  endleHsly,  it  seemed  to 
poor  Mollie.  Jt.s  dull  course  was  l)roken,  as  usual,  by  Sarah 
fetching  the  daily  nu  als;  and  it  ended,  and  night;  came,  and 
f-'*:ll  MoUie  had  not  .spoken. 

Another  day  dawned,  and  its  dawning  brought  the  dimax. 
She  had  passed  a  t^h-efdi'ss  night,  and  awoke  feverish,  unre- 
freshed,  and  utterly  desperate. 

"  If  it  was  death  instead  of  marriage  1  had  to  undergo," 
said  Mollie  to  herself,  "  I  s-houid  prefer  it  to  this  slow  tt)tture. 
It's  horrid  to  yield,  but  it's  a  great  deal  moic  liorr.d  lo  hold 
out.     I'll  yield." 

Accordingly,  when  Sarah  came  up  with  the  morning  meal, 
Mk^s  Oano  promptly  addressed  her: 
"  Sarah,  is  your  nuister  in  the  house?" 
"  Not  at  p/esent,  miss." 


])o  you  expect  him 


y>> 


Oil,  yes,  missl     ife  comes  evtiry  day.' 
"  Is  he  coming  up  here  no  more  until  1  send  for  him?" 
'*  f  think  not,  n)is-.     Jle  is  a  great  deal  too  polite  to  force 
'-imsi  If  upon  a  lady." 

A  glance  of  withering  scam  f.oni  Mollie. 

"  lie  is  a  cowardly,  eontem^Aiblu  tyrant,  and  you  are  a  vilo, 


THE    UXSEEi^    BRIDEGROOM. 


5: 


lost  creature  and  tool  I    But  that  is  not  what  1  wanted  to  say. 
As  soon  as  he  comes,  tell  liini  I  widli  to  see  him." 

"  Very  well,  miss." 

Sarah  (lt'|):uLe.l.  The  long  hours  d ragged  on — oh,  so  long! 
—  oh,  so  long!  MolUe  could  take  no  breakfast  that  morning. 
She  could  ordy  walk  up  and  down  lier  jjiison-chamber  in  a 
frenzy  of  imj^'Uienee  for  the  coming  of  the  man  tiie  liated. 

He  came  at  last — cloaked  and  masked,  and  wearing  the  false 
hair  and  beard — utterly  unrecognizable. 

"  At  last.  Miss  Dane,"  be  calmly  said,  "  you  have  sent  for 
me.  You  are  tired  of  your  prison?  You  long  for  freedom? 
You  accede  to  mv  term-.?" 

"  Yes,"  8;iid  Mr)llie,  with  a  sort  of  s'  bbing  cry,  for  the  felt 
utterly  broken  down.  "  Anything,  anytinng  under  heaven 
for  freedom!  Another  week  like  tlii^'.  and  1  should  gonuull 
Jiut,  oh!  if  you  are  a  man — if  you  have  ajiy  pity  in  your  heart 
— don't  ask  this  sanrilieu!  Lei  me  go  as  I  a;u!  tS'e,  1  j)lead 
to  you! — ],  wh,)  never  pleaded  to  nmrliil  before!  Let  mr  go, 
for  pity's  sake,  now,  as  I  came!  JJon't,  don't,  don't  ask  me 
to  marry  you!" 

She  held  up  her  claJiud  luinds— bright  tears  staiiding  in  her 
passionate  eyes.  ]5ut  the  tall,  nuisked  riia'  '  dued  up  like  u 
dark,  stern  ghost. 

"  You  were  merciless  to  me,  MoIIie  Dane.'' 

"  But  I  am  only  a  girl — only  a  silly,  ilirting  girl  t-f  -  .teeui 
Oh,  forget  and  forgive,  and  lut  me  go!" 

"  I  can  not,  MoIIie,  for — I  love  you!" 

"  Love  me?"  Alnllie  repeated,  seorn  and  anguish  in  her 
voioo.     "  Love  me,  and  torture  me  like  thi.s!" 

"  It  is  because  I  love  you.  I  torture  you  because  you  slndl 
bo  my  wife.  Mine,  M  )llie,  miiui!  ]}ecau-e  yoti  would  mner 
consi'ut  of  your  own  fieo  will.  It  goes  to  my  heart  to  hear 
you  plead;  but  I  love  you  with  my  whole  heart  and  soul,  and 
I  can  not  yield." 

"  I  shall  pU-ad  no  more,"  Piiaid  Mollie,  proudly,  turning 
away;  '*  your  heart  is  of  stone." 

"  Will  you  consent  to  marry  nu'.  Mf-Ilie?  liemcm!)or  the 
terms.  One  week  fi(uu  the  hour  that  makes  you  my  wife  will 
see  ynu  going  forth  fice,  if  you  v/ish  it." 

"  Free!  wish  it!"  bho  repeated,  with  unutterable  [•cnrn. 
"Free,  and  bound  to  you!  W'i.di  it,  when  for  that  pri^ilcgo 
1  saerilice  mvself  forever!  Oh.  you  know  well  1  love  my  lib- 
(!rty  deatly,  when  1  ran  not  lie  Ihtc  and  rot  sooner  than  have 
my  prison  your  wifu!  But,  nui:i— demon — whatever  you  are," 
she  cried,  with  a  sort  of  fren/.y,  '*  I  do  coimeiit — 1  will  become 


58 


THK    UKSKEX    r.RTDF.GROOM. 


your  wife,  siiKO  mv  only  chance  of  quitting  this  horrible  duD' 
gL>oii  lif  s  that  uiiy!" 

If  Mollie  could  have  seen  the  faeo  behind  tho  mask,  sho 
wouil  have  seep,  the  ml  glow  of  ti'iuiii[ih  that  ovensinvad  ;t  at 
tho  woriis;  but  aioiid  ho  spoke  calinl}'. 

"  My  happiness  is  comjilete,"  he  feuid.  "  I'ul  rcmc/uber, 
Mi")]]ie,  it  v.-jll  b'i  no  :;haui  marriage,  thai  you  v. ill  hv  at  liberty 
to  break.  A  ri?ai  clergyman  shall  unito  us,  and  you  must 
promise  me  to  make  no  aj)peal  to  his  sympathy — to  make  n.^ 
attempt  to  converse  with  him.  The  attempt  would  be  quite 
useless,  but  you  nir.st  promise." 

"  I  promise,"  she  said,  haughtily;  "  and  Mollio  Dane  keeps 
her  word. " 

"  And  I  keep  mine!  A  week  from  tho  ceremony  you  go 
fortli  free,  never  to  be  disturbed  by  me  again.  I  love  you, 
and  I  marry  you  for  love  and  for  revenge.  It  sounds  ineon- 
sistent,  but  it  is  true.  Yet,  my  promise  of  vengeance  ful- 
filled, I  shall  retain  you  against  your  v.ill  no  longer.  1  will 
lov  ■  j'ou  always,  and  you  will  be  my  wife— my  wife,  Mollie. 
Nothing  can  ever  alter  that.  1  can  alwaj's  tay  hereafter, 
come  what  will.  I  have  been  blessed  I" 

There  was  a  tremor  in  the  steady  voice,  lie  paused  an  in- 
stant, and  then  went  on: 

*'  T<t-night  the  clergyman  will  be  here.  Yon  will  bo  ready .^ 
You  will  not  retract  your  word?" 

"  I  never  retract  my  wor.l,"  Mollio  said,  abruptly  turning 
her  back  upon  him.     "  I  will  not  now.     Gul" 


CIIAPTlMt   VIII. 

THE   Mil  N'KillT   ^lAlMliAGK. 

The  Kcvercnd  Uaymoud  Ikahle):j,h  sat  before  a  iilazing  sea- 
coal  lire,  in  his  uozy  stuly,  in  c ^itil'urtablo,  after-dinner  mood. 
He  lay  back  in  his  cushioned  and  carved  arm-chair,  a  llorid, 
portly,  urbane  prelate,  with  irou-gray  hair  anil  jtatriarchr.l 
whiskers,  a  steaming  glass  of  wine  jninch  at  his  i  Ibow,  that 
day's  paper  open  upon  his  lap,  an  overfed  ]»ussy  ])urriiig  at  his 
knee,  the  genius  of  comfort  personiticd  in  his  own  ]i)oiily  per- 

&0!1. 

The  world  went  well  witii  tho  Kevorcnd  lia_\tnond.  Silka 
ru.stlcd  and  (li:vraonds  Hashed  every  Sunilay  in  I  he  cti.hioned 
])e,wsof  bio  "  ut't'iwn  "  church;  the  rh'/i'.  of  f'  'lliam  s-at  under 
Jiis  teaching,  and  his  sixty  years  and  the  can's  of  life  rested 
li^ditly  on  Ids  broad  shoulders. 

It  had  been  a  very  smoothly  ilovvin^r  life— those  ai.xtv  voara 


THE    UNSEEN    BRIDEGUOOSr. 


69 


— glitlinp;  alonj?  as  ahiggishly  calm  as  the  waters  of  a  canal. 
Bui  on  ihis  night  the  stiJl  surface  was  destined  to  be  milled — 
on  tbis  night,  so  strange,  so  extraordinary  an  adventure  was 
destined  to  happen  to  him,  that  it  actually  compensated,  in 
five  brief  hours,  for  ail  the  lack  of  excitement  in  those  sixty 
years. 

A  wet  and  stormy  niglit.  The  rain  beat  ceaselessly  against 
the  cur(i\ined  windows;  the  wild  spring  wind  shrieked  through 
the  city  streets,  icily  cold;  a  batl,  black  night — starless,  moon- 
less. 

The  Iiovercnd  Raymond  Kasldeigh  gave  a  little  comfortablo 
3liiver  as  ho  listened  to  it.  It  was  very  pleasant  to  listen  to  it 
in  that  cozy  little  room.  He  poked  the  blazing  coals,  sipped 
his  red  port,  stroked  pussy,  who  bore  a  most  absurd  feline  re- 
semblance to  himself,  and  took  up  his  ptiper  again. 

For  the  second  time  ho  read  over  a  brief  paragraph  among 
the  "  Personals:'' 

"  Left  IIi:m  Home. — On  the  fifteenth  instant— whether  for- 
cibly or  of  her  own  free  will  is  unknown — a  young  lady  of  six- 
teen years,  by  name  MoUie  Dane.  Is  undersized,  very  slight 
of  figure,  a  j)rofusion  of  light,  cu"Iing  hair,  large  blue  eyes, 
handsome  features,  and  remarkably  self-})ossessed  and  straight- 
forward of  manner.  Was  dressed  as  a  bride,  in  white  silk  and 
lace.  Any  information  concerning  her  will  be  thankfully  re- 
ceived and  liberally  rewarded  by  her  afllicLcd  friends.  Apjdy 
personally  or  by  letter  to  Mk.  Caul  Walravex,  Ko  —  Fifth 
Avenue,  New  York." 


Very  slowly  tiio  h'evorend  Mr.  Iiashleigh  road  this  para- 
graph to  its  end.  lie  laid  down  the  paper  and  looked  thought- 
fully at  the  cat. 

*'  Extraordinary!"  murmured  the  Kcverencd  Kaymond, 
half  aloud — "most  extraordinary!  Like  a  scene  in  a  novel; 
like  nothing  in  real  life,  lias  the  earih  ojiened  and  swallowed 
her  up!-*  Has  she  gone  oiT  with  some  younger  and  handsomer 
lover!-*  Or  has  she  been  decoyed  from  home  by  tlu;  ma(;hina- 
tioijs  of  some  enemy!''  .She  had  in:iuy,  j)oor  child!  'f hat  un- 
fortunate Sir  Kogor  is  like  a  man  insane,  lie  is  olTering  half 
his  fortune  for  her  recovery.  Jt  is  really  very,  very  extraor- 
dinary.    QuiLe  a  romance  in  real  life.     Come  in!" 

I'hcro  had  been  a  tap  at  the  study  door;  a  maidservant 
entered. 

"  There- B  a  young  woman  down-staira,  sir,  wishes  to  see  you 
most  particular." 


60 


THE    UKSKEN    BUIDEGROOM. 


'*  Ah,  indeed!  Who  is  she?  What  is  her  business  with 
me?" 

"  1  don't  know,  sir.    Something  very  important,  she  says. " 

"  fSho^v  luT  up." 

The  girl  d-jpiirtc-d,  ran  dou'n-slaii's,  ran  up  again,  follotvod 
by  a  resp{;ctal)le-looking  yiuiiig  woman  of  pieasing  a^^peot. 

"  Wfll,  my  i-hild  " — he  wm  very  fatherly  and  bliind,  was 
tho  Kevoreud  Kaymond  liadhleigh — "and  what  may  you  want 
with  meV 

"  My  mistress  sent  me,  sir.     I  am  Mrs.  Ilolywcll's  maid." 

"  Indeed  I"  said  Mr.  Jla^jldeigl),  vividly  interested  at  onee; 
"and  how  is  Mrs.  Holywell?" 

"  Very  poorly,  sir.  8iie  thinks  she's  dying  Iierself.  She 
wants  to  make  her  will  to-night;  that's  why  she  sent  for  you." 

Mr.  Rashleigli  rose  with  vers  unwonted  alacrity. 

She  was  a  distant  relative  of  his,  this  dying  Mrs.  Holywell; 
ridiculously  rich  for  a  (;hildle?s  wiilow,  and  with  no  nearer  heir 
than  the  reverend  paJtor  of  St.  Pancras'  Churiili. 

"  I  will  accompany  you  at  onee,  my  dearl  Poor  I\[rs.  IToly- 
well!  But  it  is  tlie  fate  of  all  llesh!  How  did  you  come, 
pray?     It  rains,  d'ics  it  niU?" 

A  liercc  gust  of  wind  rattled  (ho  double  windows,  and  fraa- 
tically  beat  the  rain  against  them  by  way  of  answer. 

"  I  <  amo  in  a  carriage,  sir.     It  is  at  the  door  now." 

"  That  is  well. 
Mrs,  Uolywell!" 


I  will  not  detain  you  an  instant.     Ah  I  poor 


The  parson's  hat  and  overcoat  hung  it)  iho  room.  In  a 
moment  they  were  on;  in  another  ho  was  following  the  very 
respectable  young  woman  down-stairs;  in  a  third  he  was 
scrambling  after  her  into  the  I'arriage;  in  a  fourth  they  were 
rattling  wildly  over  the  wet,  stotiy  streets;  in  a  lifih  the  rever- 
end gentleman  was  grasped  in  a  vise-like  gi  i]»,  and  a  voice  close 
to  his  ear — a  man's  voiiie — hissed: 

"  Speak  one  word,  make  the  least  outcry,  and  you  are  a 
dead  mun!" 

The  interior  of  the  carriage  was  in  utter  darkness. 

The  h'everend  Mr.  l^ashit  igh  gave  one  ])anting  gasp,  and 
fell  back  in  his  scat.  High  living  and  long  indolence  had 
mane  him  a  complete  craven.  Life  was  inestimably  precious 
to  the  portly  pastor  of  St.  Pancras'.  After  that  one  choking 
giisp,  be  sat  (juivering  all  over,  like  calves'-foot  j'^lly. 

"  Bandage  his  eyes,  Sarah,  vvhilo  I  tie  his  haniis,"  said  Iho 
man's  voice.  "  My  dear  sir,  don't  shake  so;  it  is  almost  im- 
pos.able  to  do  anythiiig  with  you  in  this  hystcrieal  state. 
MOW,  bind  his  mouth,  Sarah.     There!  I  think  that  will  do.' 


THE  rxsEEN  r.nrDEnROOM. 


61 


BouMtl  iianil.-f,  iiml  eyoa,  and  njoutli,  luilf  suffocatfd,  wliolly 
blinded,  tho  IJeverund  iZuvnioiid  li-ahleigh  wan  a  pitiiible  ob- 
ject ut  that  iijstant.  But  liiere  wa^  no  one  to  piiv  iiim,  no 
one  to  see  him,  no  one  to  help  him. 

Tlio  carriage  whirled  on,  and  on,  and  on  at  drrzy  speed, 
the  wind  t:iudiing  by  in  long,  lamentable  gales,  the  rain  daching 
uhuiioroiisly  against  the  closed  glass, 

Paralyztvl  with  intense  terror,  Mr.  IJiu-hleigh  sat  trembling 
to  that  extent  that  he  threatened  to  topple  olT  his  seat. 

"  Pra"  calm  yourself,  my  reverend  friend,"  said  that  niHS- 
culine  voice  boside  him.  "  Xo  personal  harm  is  intended  you, 
and  J  have  no  designs  upon  your  watch  and  purse.  1  merely 
want  the  loan  of  you  in  your  clerical  rapacity,  to  perform  the 
ceremony  of  marriage  ovtu*  a  runauay  couplo.  1  knew  you 
v/ouldn't  come  of  your  own  free  will;  therefore,  I  took  the 
trouble  to  ascertain  about  those  little  expectations  of  yours 
from  Mrs.  Holywell,  and  used  that  goot  lady,  whose  health,  I 
triiHt,  is  no  wo:\se  than  usual,  as  a  cat's-paw.  You  must  par- 
don the  deception,  dear  sir,  and  you  must  perform  the  mar- 
riage ceremony  without,  inconvenient  scruples,  cr  hesitation, 
or  (piestioiis.  Iio  thankful,  for  the  sake  of  morality,  we  see 
the  propriety  of  getting  married  at  all.  ^'ou  are  listt^ning  to 
me  and  paying  atteiitii'ii  to  )ue,  I  hope?'' 

Paying  atti^ntionl  ^'es,  his  whole  soul  was  absorbed  in 
list(ining. 

"  Where  1  take  yo'i,  who  T  am,  you  will  never  iind  out. 
Don't  try,  mv  dear  Mr.  Iiashleigh,  even  if  you  have  the  op- 
portunity. Marry  me — for  1  am  to  be  the  happy  bridegroom 
— and  don't  utter  another  word,  save  and  exci'[)t  the  words  of 
the  ceremony,  from  the  time  you  enter  my  house  until  you 
leave  it.  If  you  do  your  part  like  the  prudent,  elderly  gentle 
man  I  take  you  to  be,  you  will  iind  yourself  ba(;k  in  your 
pleasant  studv,  safe  and  sound,  before  morning  dawns.  If 
not—" 

There  was  an  awful  sound,  the  sharp  click  of  a  pistol.  Ko 
words  in  any  known  language — and  the  par?on  knew  all  the 
languages,  deail  and  alive — t:ouId  have  lilled  v\>  the  hiatus  so 
eloipiently  or  so  convincingly. 

The  cold  perspiration  started  from  every  pore,  and  each 
tooth  in  his  clerical  jaws  clattered  like  pairs  of  castanets. 

They  drove,  and  they  drove,  and  they  drove  through  the 
wild,  wet  night,  as  if  they  meant  to  drive  forever. 

iiut  they  sto[)ped,  after  a  horribly  lung  .nterval,  and  tlie 
parson  was  helped  out  into  the  rain,  out  of  the  laiu  into  a 
house,  Jed  up  a  llight  of  stairs,  and  seated  in  a  chair. 


62 


THE    UNSEEN    BKIDEOROOM. 


"  Now,  my  deiir  sir,  ])2iinit  mo  to  remove  these  uncomfort- 
able iii(nimbriin('(}S,  anil  do.  do  try  (o  ovorlfok  llie  jituiirid 
m^neasity  \vhit;h  compvllml  iiiu  to  iisn  tluiii.  Jt  goe.s  to  my 
heart,  I  a>'suro  you.     'J'ln  rel" 

'^riio  liisL  hi'.iuhige  dioppcd  to  the  {.(rnutid— eyoR,  hinidi?, 
mouth  wore  free,  lint  'Mi:  llivAiWi'^h  could  imike  no  ufc  ol' 
ills  freedom;  he  ?tit  pale,  benumbed,  eonlounded,  h'-lijleas. 

"  ]iouse  yourself,  my  (uar  sir,"  wild  his  per^^iuuilor,  j^iving 


liim  ii  f^entle  shake;  "  doTi't 
Look  u{)  ami  s])eak  to  me.'' 
The  reverend  i:i;entl.inan  did 


drop 


p  into  a  ('alale])lic  tranee. 


the 


I'l^'iy 


lo(,'k 
bla<k 


up,  and  uttered  a  f^ort  of 
mask  frowning  ^hastily 


scream  at  sit:ht   of 
down  upon  him. 

"  Don't  be  alarmed,"  yaid  the  marked  man,  soothingly; 
"  no  harm  is  meant  you.  My  ma-k  won't  hurt  you.  1 
merely  don't  want  you  to  recogni/e  mo  to-morrow,  should  wo 
chance  to  niert.  J\Iy  briile  will  be  ma.  ked,  too,  and  you  will 
marry  us  by  our  Christian  names  alone.  Hers  is  Mary;  mine 
id  Ernest.     Do  you  understand?" 

"Yes,  yes!"  resj)onded  Mr.  Kaslileigh,  (juakiuf,'  wilh  un- 
utterable terror.  OhI  was  this  a  drtadful  irghtmare,  induced 
by  a  too  luxurious  dinner,  or  was  it  a  horrible  reality? 

"  And  you  are  ready  to  ])erform  the  ceremony?  to  ask  no 
([uestions?  to  mari'y  us,  and  be  gone?" 

"  Yes,  yes,  yes!  Oh,  good  heavens  I"  groaned  tlic  Ilevorcnd 
liaymonu;  '*  am  T  asleep  or  awake?" 

"Very  well,  then,"  said  this  dreadfid  man  in  the;  niiisk; 
"I  will  go  for  the  bride.  She  is  Maiy,  riniendiej-;  I  am 
Ernest.     1  will  return  in  a  moment." 

He  quittrd  the  room.  Mr.  Uashleigh  stared  hcljileibhly 
about  him,  in  a  jiltiidjh;  sitate  of  terror  and  bewildei'ment. 
The  room  was  large,  wjII,  even  elegantly,  furinslicd,  with 
nothing  at  all  remari.abl .'  about  its  eleiranee;  such  anotlier  as 
Mr.  Jiashleigh's  own  drawing-room  at  lumie.  It  was  lighted 
by  a  cluster  of  ga.i-j'its,  and  tl)e  piano,  the  Jirm-ehairs,  the 
sofas,  the  tables,  the  pictures,  were  all  very  handsome  and 
very  common,  indeed. 

Ten  minutes  elapsed.  The  commonplace,  every-day  look 
of  the  mvsterious  room  did  moic  lowaiii  reasstirinir  the  trem- 


bling jirelate  than  a 
The  door  opened 


this  time  with  a  lady  hanging  on  his  aim 

1.1 ' 


the  nuibked  nuiu's  words. 

and  the  masked  man  stalked  in  again, 


The  lady  was  small  and  i^lcndc  i-,  r.bed  in  llowing  white 
silk;  a  rich  veil  of  rare  laoe  falling  over  her  from  luad  to  foot 
hke  a  cloud;  u  wreath  of  orange-blo.-oius  on  lur  fair  head; 


THE    I'NSEEK    nniOEOROOM. 


n:] 


jowolri  sp;i!'klit\!;' iibnufc  her — evcrythin':^  j.iil  an  it  eliould  be, 
mv(i  thai  till!  J'iiiH'  \v;u  liiiltlcn.  A  rna.^k  of  whiter  biik.  giving 
lior  ii  cnrpsc-liku  juul  ghastly  look,  covered  it  from  forehoad 
to  vh'iu. 

Tliu  very  respectable  young  womiin  who  hau  inveiglnl  him 
out  of  liis  study,  and  a  f-^Iouchv-looking  young  inuti  TdlLuvvei!, 
luid  took  their  place/!  h.hind  the  masked  [uii;. 

"  ViC'.nn,"  aii'.lioritaiively  isornniandeil  ihe  biidegrooni. 

The  Jiovcrend  Raymond  fJa-ldeigh  stood  up.  It  was  a  wild 
and  lawless  proceeding,  and  all  wrong;  but  Tie  ks  sweet  to 
portly  prelates  of  sixty,  and  he  stood  ti})  and  began  at  once. 

Mr.  Kashleigli  needed  no  book — ho  knew  Viw  maniage  aerv- 
ico  as  pit  as  his  j)rayi'rs.  The  ring  was  at  hand;  the  fjiiea- 
tions  wt'i'e  a-iki-d;  the  res[>onses  nnido. 

In  five  minutes  the  two  maskm  wero  man  and  wife. 

"  Make  o!it  a  eertilleate  of  mari'iage,"  saifl  the  bridegroom; 
"  these  two  peo[i!o  will  l»e  witnesses.  Their  niunes  are  .Sarah 
Grant  and  -lohn  Jones." 

VtiWi,  ink  and  papci-  wero  placed  before  him.  Mr.  Piash- 
leigli  cssa\'ed  to  write,  as  well  as  his  trembling  lingers  would 
allow  liim,  au'l  handed  a  smeared  and  blotted  document  to 
the  bridegioom. 

"  You  will  eider  this  marriage  on  your  register,  Mr.  IJash- 
h'igh,"  sai.i  the  man.  ''1  am  very  much  obliged  to  you. 
i'rav  acee])t  this  for  your  trouble." 

Th's  was  a  glistening  roul  nui  o"  gold.  Mr.  Rashleigh  liked 
gohl,  and  in  sjiite  of  his  trepidation,  managed  to  put  it  in  his 
pocket. 

"  Xow.  niv  dear,"  \\v)  hap])y  man  J^aid,  turning  to  the  littlo 
wliite  briiie,  "  you  and  Sariili  had  better  retire.  Our  reverend 
friend  will  wish  to  return  home.     I  must  see  him  there." 

'J'lio  biidc  and  her  attendant  left  the  room  without  ii  word. 
The  biidegroom  produced  the  bandages  again. 

"  I  regret  the  necessity,  but  1  must  bind  you  iigain.  How- 
ever, it  will  not  Ijo  for  long;  in  a  couple  of  hours  you  will  be 
at  home. " 

Willi  wonderful  !-kill  and  rapidity,  hands,  eyes,  and  mouth 
were  bound  onee  more;  the  j)a'.son  was  led  down-stairs,  out 
into  the  wet  night,  and  back  to  his  seat  in  the  carriage.  T'he 
Tuasked  man  took  his  ])Ia"e  beside  liim.  dohn  doues  mounted 
to  the  driver's  perch,  and  they  were  oil'  like  the  wind. 

'I'he  })romi3ed  two  hours  were  very  long  to  the  rector,  but 
thwy  ended  at  last.  The  carriage  sloppetl  abruptly;  he  was 
helped  out,  and  tlio  baiulage  takt'n  fr(/m  his  eyes  and  hands. 

"  The  other  must  remain  for  a  moment  or  twc^,"  said  the 


64 


THE    UlsSEEW    BRIDEGROOM. 


mysterious  man  w'vh  tlit>  mask,  Kpfukinfr  rapidly.  "  Yon  aro 
at  the  comer  of  your  owu  street..  Cioud-bvc,  and  nmiiy 
thiinks!" 

He  spr!ing  into  tlio  oarri;i/i;fl.  and  it  was  gone  lik^'  xi  flash. 
And  tlie  KeveriMid  J?aym  'iid  Kaslileigh,  in  tlio  gray  aud  dis- 
mal dawn  of  a  wet  morning,  was  left  all  agape  in  the  deauited 
street. 


fllAPTEK   IX. 

O  N  K     W  K  K  K     A  F  T  E  K  . 

On"  that  evontfnl  ni^iht  of  wind  a!id  rain  upon  vhieh  the 
IJiiverend  liayinoiivl  ]i:i.siiic'igli  pcrforniL'.!  that  my.-UL'rioii.s  mid- 
Tiight  mariiago,  Mr.  Carl  Walravfn  pttct'd  alone  his  stately 
library,  lost  in  thon^jht — painful  thought;  for  his  dark  brows 
were  (3on traded,  ami  tlic;  (.'reeian  lua'l.s  in  thtf  braiU<etd  around 
him  had  ud  severer  lines  tlntn  tliO.-;e  about  hi-^  m  )uth. 

While  he  pace?)  up  and  down,  up  and  down,  like  some  rest- 
less ghost,  the  library  door  opens,  and  his  wife,  magnifie'eiitly 
arrayed,  with  jewels  in  her  raven  hair,  a  sparkling  fan  Q:ing- 
ling  from  her  wrist,  an  oilor  of  rich  perfume  following  her, 
appears  before  h'ui  like  a  pitturo  in  a  frame. 

bhe  is  superbly  handsome  in  that  rose-colored  opora-eloak, 
and  she  knows  it,  and  is  smiling  graciously;  but  the  svvarth 
frown  on  her  husband's  face  only  grows  blacker  as  he  looks  at 
her. 

"  You  aro  going,  then?"  caid  Mr.  Carl  Walraveu. 

"Going!'''  xMrs.  Wid raven  anhes  her  black  evslu'ows  in 
pretty  surprise  at  th.!  word.  "  Of  couise,  my  dear.  J  would 
not  miss  '  Kobert  le  Diablo  '  and  the  ciia;ming  new  teuor  for 
world  rf!" 

"  Kor  would  you  obey  your  husband  for  worlds,  mfidame. 
I  expressly  desired  you  to  stay  at  home." 

"  1  know  it,  my  love.  Should  be  happy  to  oblige  yo.i,  but 
in  this  ease  it  is  simply  impossible." 

"  Have  you  no  regard  for  the  opinion  of  the  world?" 

"  Every  regard,  my  dear." 

"  What  do  you  suppose  society  will  say  to  sue  you  at  the 
opera,  dressed  like  a  queen,  while  we  are  all  moufiiing  poor 
Mollie's  loss?" 

"Society  will  say,  if  society  has  common  sen-se,  that  Mrs. 
Walraveu  aeorns  to  play  hypocrite.  I  diin't  care  for  Mollio 
Dane — I  never  did  cure  for  her — and  I  don't  mourn  her  loss 
in  the  lea«t.  I  don't  cure  that" — the  lady  s.-iapped  her 
jovolcd    lingers    Komcwhat  vulgarly — "  if    1  never  see  her 


THE    UNRT.EN    HRIDEGROOM. 


CA 


again.  It  is  aa  well  to  till  you  (lie  truth,  my  dear.  One 
.should  have  no  Koorctr;  from  oiio'k  hu^banil,  liny  nuy." 

Sho  laii;,'hfLl  li;.;litly,  uini  drew  her  ffu'tii-cl  ak  up  ovfi-  her 
«upcrb  burc!  shoulders.  Mr.  Walraveii's  darkest  scowl  did  not 
iutirnidido  her  iti  the  leaiit. 

"  Leiivo  Iho  rocm,  miulamcl"  ordered  lior  luisband,  aulh^r- 
itutively;  "and  take  you  care  that  1  don't  asiiert  my  right 
and  cf'mpfl  yf'U  to  obey  uk*,  before  long," 

"  Compel!"  It  was  suiili  a  good  joke  that  ?.Ir.s.  Dlanehe's 
silvery  laugh  rang  through  the  apartment.  '*  ^  on  oomptlled 
me  once,  against  my  will,  when  you  took  your  ward  wiih  you 
on  your  weilding-tour.  I  don't  think  it  will  ever  happen 
again,  Mr.  Waluiven.  And  now,  how  do  you  like  my  dress? 
1  eamo  in  expressly  to  ask  you,  for  the  carriage  waits." 

"  Jjeave  the  roomi"  cried  Carl  Walravcn,  in  a  voice  of 
thunder.     "PiOgone!" 

*'  You  are  violent,"  said  I'lanehe,  with  a  provoking  shrug 
and  smilo,  but  jirudently  retieatiiig.  "  You  forget  your  voice 
may  be  heard  beyond  tliis  room.  Since  you  lost  your  ward 
you  appear  al.'^o  to  have  lost  your  temper — never  of  the  best, 
I  must  say.  Well,  my  love,  by-bve  for  the  i)rusent.  Don't 
(juite  wear  out  the  carpet  before  1  return." 

AVith  the  last  sneer  and  a  bweeping  br-w,  the  lady  quitted 
(he  library.  As  she  closed  the  door,  the  houac-bell  rang  vio- 
lently. 

"  The  devoted  baronet,  no  doubt,"  she  said  to  hor.self,  with 
an  unpleasant  smile;  "coma  to  condole  with  his  brother  in 
afHiction.  Poor  old  neodle!  Truly,  a  fool  of  f;n-ty  will  never 
bo  wise!     A  fool  of  seventy,  in  his  case," 

One  of  the  tall  footmen  opened  the  donr.  T?ut  it  was  not 
the  stalely  baronet.  The  fontman  recoiled  with  a  little  yelp 
of  terror — ho  had  admitted  this  visitor  b.>fore.  A  gaunt  and 
haggard  woman,  clad  in  rags,  soaking  with  rain — a  wretched 
object  as  ever  the  sun  shone  on. 

"  Is  Carl  Walraven  within?"  demanded  this  gri.-iv  appa- 
rition, striding  in  and  confrontinsr  the  tottering  footmau  with 
blazing  black  eyes.     "  Tell  liim  Miriam  is  here." 

The  footman  recoiled  further  with  another  feeble  yelp,  and 
Blanche  Walravi  ii  haughtily  and  angrilv  faced  the  intruder. 

"  Who  are  you?" 

The  blazing  eyes  burning  in  h(  How  sockets  turned  upon  the 
glittering,  perfumed  vision. 

"  Who  am  I?  What  would  3'ou  give  to  know?  Who  are 
you?  Carl  Walraven's  wife,  1  sup{)(x-ie.  His  wife!  Ha! 
ha!"  she  laughed — a  weird,  blood-curdling  laugh.     "  1  wish 


66 


TJIK     UMSi'KN     li:.:i>K(Ji;OO.M. 


you  joy  of  your  luisL'nul,  most  mugnitioent  mudaniol  ToJl 
um.  fi'llow,"  tuniin^f  willi  riii.ldt'n  fi'  K.'ciiea.s  uiion  thodismiiyod 
uudiTsLaippLT,  *■■  is  your  nKi*ltfr  at  Ji'imo?" 

'*  Y-e-e-sI     Tliiit  is,  J  think  bo,  nui'am. " 

"  do  »nd  (ell  him  t'l  ( uuie  ]kvv,  Ihcu.     (Jo,  or  fll — " 

'Vh"  drciidl'id  object  uiiido  oiin  sirido  toward  the  luf!y  uervi- 
ttir,  who  turned  iirul  l!od  toiViird  iho  libniry. 

Ijiit  Mr.  \\'ahiiven  h;vl  hi  urd  hjud  and  anp^ry  voicos,  and  at 
this  moment  tlio  door  o[)L'ncd  and  ho  a})iit'ared  on  the  tli.ciii)- 
jld. 

*'  What  id  thiii?"'  lie  (h'liumdcd,  angrily,  *•  What  (he  deuoo 
do  you  mean,  U  ilnon,  by  wrui.iriini;!;  In  the  hiJl?  ISut  gone 
yet,  Hianelie?     (lood  ir^'avcn!  j\Jiri;iMi!" 

"  Yerf,  MiriamI"  Shu  t^trodo  rKircoly  forward.  ''Yes, 
Miriam!  Come  to  deuumd  revon;.;."'.  Where  is  .McIIie  |).ine? 
You  promised  to  ])roteet  her,  and  I'ee  how  you  keei)  ytuir 
word!" 

"  In  the  demon's  name,  liushl"  (jricd  Car]  Widraveii,  sav- 
agely. "  What  you  have  to  say  to  uie,  say  to  me — j'ot  to  iln) 
wliole  house.  Come  in  hero,  you  lia:;"  of  .Satan,  and  blow  out 
as  mueh  aa  you  plea^el  (Jood  Lord!  Wasn't  I  in  trouble 
enough  b(;fi;re,  without  you  eoniinj^'  to  drive  me  mad!-"' 

lie  caught  her  by  one  Uoshless  arm  in  a  Kort  of  frenzy  of 
desperation,  and  swung  her  int')  t!ie  library.  'I'h?n  lie  turiu'd 
to  his  audience  of  two  with  IliHliing  oyen: 

"  W'il.son,  bo  gone!  or  I'll  break  every  bone  in  your  body! 
Mrs.  Walraven,  be  good  enough  to  take  yourself  otT  at  once. 
1  don't  want  eavesdroppens." 

And  having  thud  paid  his  ek'gant  lady-wife  back  in  her  own 
coin,  Mr.  Walraven  stalked  into  the  library  like  a  sulky  lion, 
bunged  the  door  and  locked  it. 

Mrs.  Carl  etood  a  moment  in  petrilied  siknco  in  the  liaii, 
then  sailed  in  ma^stie  displeasure  out  of  the  house,  into  the 
Wiilting  carriage,  and  v/as  whirled  awav  to  the  Academy. 

*'  Turn  and  turn  about.  Mr.  Carl  Walraven."  she  said,  be- 
tween set,  white  teeth.  "  ]\Iy  turn  next !  I'll  ferret  out  your 
guilty  secrets  before  long,  as  sure  as  my  name  is  Ijhinche!" 

Mr.  W'alraven  faced  Miriam  in  the  librarv  with  folded  urme 
and  tiery  eyes,  goaded  to  recklessness,  a  panther  at  bay. 

"  Well,  vou  she-devil,  what  do  you  want?" 

"Mary  Dane." 

"  Find  her,  then!"  said  Carl  Walraven,  fiercely.  "  1  know 
nothing  about  her." 

The  woman  looked  at  him  long  and  keenly.  The  cliange 
iii  him  evidently  puzzled  her. 


Tin:     I'NSrEN    T.RTDF.fillOOH. 


C7 


You 


■m^;  ti  new 


-onji  lutc'lv,"  ^h^f  ■■•aiil.  wiili  (li:lil»('!ution. 


Do  you  WitiiL  UK!  to  think  you  iin;  out  oi'  isiy  ])()V.cr?'' 

" 'I'liink  what  you  j)|i.'ii:-:o,  an'l  hii  lia'iLicd  io  youl"  liowlod 
Mr.  Wiilraveu.  ''  I  um  di'ivcti  to  tiie  vcrj^'o  of  niiiilu'JHS  among 
youl  Moilio  J-);itn;  ami  hcv  <.li-:ijt|t!'!ii'.uii;ts  niv  wife  and  her 
cursfcd  tiiunta,  you  ami  your  infernal  tiiicat.sl  !)•>  your  wortt, 
tho  whole  of  you!     I  defy  the  wiiole  loti" 

".'^(ifily,  softly,"  Huid  MiiiaJii.  ooolino;  dnvrn  i'h  he  hci»ted 
np.  "  1  want  iui  c'.\i)IiujuUon.  "Vou  h;ivo  lost  I»T)llioI  llov/ 
v/firt  she  io-4?" 

■'  YcA — how?  You've  asked  tho  (lueslion,  and  1  wii-li  you 
would  auswor  il.  I'vo  heen  d living,'  niy.self  wdd  ov<;r  it  for 
the  past  few  days,  but  I  don'c  Kuem  to  ^u't  to  the  solution. 
Can't  your  l-'aiuiliar."  pointing  downward,  "  iielp  you  guess 
the  erngnia,  Miriam?" 

^liriaiu  frowned  darkly. 

"  J)o  you  loaliy  intend  to  nay  you  have  not  made  away  with 
the  gill  yourself?" 

"  Kow  what  does  the  woman  mean  by  that?  Wliat  the 
deuco.  should  I  make  aw.iv  with  her  for?  1  liked  iMullie — 
u])on  my  soul  1  diil,  Miiianil  I  liked  her  better  ihan  any  one 
in  tliis  house — the  little,  gaucy,  miseiiievouH  witchi  She  was 
on  the  eve  of  iniirryin^  a  baronet,  and  going  to  her  castle  in 
!S])ain — I  mean  in  Waiej — ^vhen,  lol  she  vanishes  like  a  gimst 
in  a  child's  tale.  I've  scoured  the  city  uftor  her — I've  paid 
detei;tives  fabulou.-!  amounts.  I'vebcn  worried,  and  harassed, 
and  goaded,  anil  mystiiied  until  I'm  half  iiuid,  and  here  you 
come  with  your  infernal  ni)nsense  about  '  making  away  '  with 
her.  That  means  mu-dering  lier,  I  suj>no«e.  I  always  took 
you  to  be  moiJ  oi-  le>s  nnvd,  Mi.iam  Dane,  but  1  never  before 
took  you  to  be  a  foul." 

The  woman  looked  at  him  keenly — he  was  evidently  telling 
the  truth.     Yet  still  bhe  doubted. 

"  Who  but  you,  Carl  Wulravcn,  had  any  interest  in  her, 
one  way  or  tho  other?  What  enemies  could  a  girl  of  sixteen 
hnve?" 

"Ah!  what,  indeed?  If  a  girl  of  sixteen  will  flirt  with 
every  eligible  nuin  -he  meets  until  she  renders  him  idiotic, 
she  must  expect  to  [lay  tlie  penalty.  V>v.i,  f  don't  pretend  to 
understand  this  allair;  it  is  wrapjied  in  bluokcr  mystery  than 
the  Man  in  the  Iron  Mask.  All  I've  got  to  say  is — I  had  no 
hand  in  it;  so  no  more  of  your  black  loi  ks.  Mistress  Miriam." 

"And  all  I've  got  to  say,  Mr.  Walruven,"  said  Miriam, 
steadfastly  lixing  her  eyes  upon  him,  "  is  that  if  Mollie  Dane 
is  not  found  beioro  the  month  a  out,  J  w 


V 


your  story 


es 


TH! 


VNSKKN     IMIIDKiiliOOM. 


to  the  world.     Wlitit  will  Madame  Walraveii,  what  will  Mrs. 
Carl,  what  will  the  <;liief  niotropolitaii  circle's  say  tliuii?" 

"  You  hag  of  Hadics!  Aiu't  you  alraid  1  will  strangle  yoii 
where  you  stand?" 

"  Not  the  least,/'  folding  her  shawl  deliberately  around 
her,  and  moving;  towaid  the  door:  "  not  m  the  >sii^^hl.est  de- 
gree. Coud-ni;  'it,  Carl  Walravou — I  have  said  it^  imd  I 
alwavs  keep  my  word." 

"keep  it,  ."'id—" 

But  Miriar.i  did  not  hear  that  last  forcible  adjuration,  f^'he 
was  out  of  ^lie  library,  and  out  of  the  houtie,  ere  it  v.aij  well 
littered — lost  in  the  wet,  black  ni.cht. 

Left  alone,  Carl  Walravcn  reMinied  his  niar(  h  up  and  slown 
the  apartment,  with  a  gloomier  J'acL'  and  more  'luwjiing  brovvi- 
than  ever. 

It  was  bad  enough  before,  without  this  t'ger-cat  of  a  Miriam 
coming  to  make  things  tvn  times  worse.  It  was  all  braviidc, 
his  detiance  of  her,  and  ho  kuiMV  it.  lie  was  com])kL(.ly  in 
her  power,  to  ruin  for  life  if  she  chose  to  speak. 

"  And  bhe  will  choose!"  growled  Caid  \\  ab-avrn,  in  a  r.ngi% 
"  the  accursed  old  hagi  if  Moliie  Dane  dot  :sn't  turn  up  before 
the  month  ends.  By  the  Lord  llarryl  I'll  twist  (hat  wizen 
gullet  of  hers  the  next  time  she  shows  licr  nglv  hhnk  face 
here!  Confound  Mollie  Dane  and  all  belnnging  lo  her!  I've 
never  known  a  day's  rest  since  I  met  tbem  iir><t/' 

There  was  a  tap  at  tl;e  door.  The  tall  frotman  threw  ifc 
open  and  ushered  in  Sir  lioger  Trajenna.  'i'he  ttati  iy  old 
baronet  looked  ten  years  older  in  these  few  days.  Anxiety 
told  upon  him  more  hardly  than  his  8evi'nty  y(ara. 

"  Good-evening,  Sir  IJogerl"  cricii  Mr.  Walravon,  advanc- 
ing eagerly.     "  Any  news  of  Mollie?" 

He  expected  to  hear  "  Ko,"  but  the  baro?K't  said  "  Ye;j. " 
He  was  deeply  acitatwl,  and  helil  forth,  in  a  hand  that  irh.ook, 
ft  note  to  Carl  Walraven. 

*'  I  received  that  an  hour  ago,  through  tho  post-oilice.  I'ni 
Heaven's  sake,  nad,  and  tell  me  what  you  think  of  it,I" 

He  dropped  exhausted  into  a  chair.  Carl  Wuliavou  tore 
open  the  biief  cpiaLle,  and  devoured  its  coaieuts: 


"  8iJi  RonEH  TRA.ri'XN'A, — Give  u]i  your  search  for  Mollic 
Lane,  it  's  useless;  a  waste  of  time  and  money.  8he  is  taio 
and  well,  ?tid  will  be  at  home  in  a  week,  but  she  will  never  bo 
your  wiie. 

"*  One  Wuo  Knows." 


THE    UNSEEN    liRIDKGROOW. 


69 


Mr.  Walravon  road  and  rorcad  these  brief  liiie.s  and  stood 
and  stared  at  Sir  I'oger  Trajenna. 

"  (I'ood  heavens!     You  ^'ot  thia  throii(:;h  the  post-oflico?" 

"  I  did,  an  hour  a^^O;,  and  came  here  at  once.  Do  vou  be- 
lieve it?" 

"  How  can  I  tell?  Let  na  hope  it  may  be  true.  Tt  is  of  a 
piece  with  the  rest  of  the  niysUrv.  'I'Iik  writing,  as  usual  in 
these  anonvmoua  letters,  is  di^^juiscd.  Can  Moiiie  herself  he 
the  writer?" 

"  i\iollieI"  TIio  baronet  grew  ft-ai-fully  ])ale  a'o  the  bare 
suggestion.  "  Why  on  earth  should  my  aHiancid  wif.;  write 
like  thai  ?  Don't  you  Bee  it  says  there,  '  tShe  will  never  be 
your  wil'i!?'     Jtollie,  my  bride,  wiMiId  never  say  that." 

Mr.  Walravei)  was  not  so  sure,  but  he  did  not  say  so.  He 
had  very  little  faith  in  Wns  Dane's  stability:,  even  in  a  matter 
of  this  kin  !. 

"  It  is  the  work  of  some  enemy,''  saiil  Sir  Roger,  "  and,  as 
such,  to  be  di.;rep;ardtd.  Like  all  anonymous  letters,  it  ia 
oniv  Worthy  of  cojitcmpt, " 

roople  always  say  that  of  anonymous  C'-'mmuninations;  bu.v 
the  anoiiyuKHis  communications  invariably  have  their  elToct, 
notwithslandinf,'. 

"■  1  wlil  (jontinuo  my  search,"  pwrsiied  Sir  Itoger,  lirml_y. 
"  I  will  offer  yet  liifdier  rewards,  1  u-ill  employ  still  more 
detectives.  I  will  place  this  letter  in  tlu'ir  hands.  IVo  stono 
siiall  b  i  left  unturned — iio  money  t-hall  be  spared.  If  I  lose 
Moiiie,  lil'u  is  not  worth  the  having." 

lie  roh-e  to  go.  Mr.  W'a! raven  fulili'd  up  the  mysterious 
epi>ith!  and  handed  it  hack. 

"  I  see  it  is  [)o;Umai  ked  in  the  city.  If  the  writer  really 
knows  aught  oE  MolJi",  she  li-ust  be  nearer  at  hand  than  wo 
imaL'ine.      W'oidtl  to  Heaven  thi.  v^c'^k  were  nj). " 

"  Then  you  have  faith  in  this?"  >:aid  the  baronet,  looking 
e.stonished. 

"  I  have  hope,  my  dear  sir.  It  Ik  very  ca:\y  believing  in 
what  we  wish  to  come  true.  There  may  be  somoLhing  iu  it. 
Who  knows?" 

The  baronet  shook  his  head. 

'*  I  wish  I  couhl  thitik  so.  1  sometimes  fear  we  will  never 
see  her  again.  Pooi-  vUWM  Poor  little  .Moiiie!  Heavon  only 
knows  what  yon  ruav  not  Icivo  sutforcd  ere  this!" 

"  Let  lis  not  di>!}'air.  Prav,  resume  y()ur  seat.  1  am  quite 
alone  this  stormy  night,  Sir  Kogor.  Mrs.  Walrnven  has  gone 
to  the  opiTH. " 

But  the  baronet  moved  I'csolutclv  to  the  door. 


70 


THE    UNSEEX    RRIDFCtROOM. 


"  Thank-^.  rTr.  Wal.'ii^'on:  but  I  ii;n  !'/,  eomnr'Tiv  f.ir  no  one. 
I  luiVG  been  utterly  iniserablo  Kince  thct  l'it»il  iiigiit.  1  can 
lind  rcct  no".vh-rr>.  I  will  not  inllict.  ni\  \\\;*n.sunie  Bociety 
upon  you,  uiv  f.i^'iid.     (iootl-niglitl" 

Tlie  wc'j'ic  {)  !■;•:.  (1.  As  Sir  l^)2;pr  snid,  the  inouIriLS  and  re- 
wards wcro  d  ,!ib!td — trebltd;  l)iit  all  in  vain.  JNo  (race — not 
the  faintest  s-hadow  of  tnwc — of  the  lost;  ouo  couki  be  fi^uud. 
The  mystery  di  opened  and  darkened  every  d;!y. 

Tlie  week  e.\j)ir('d.  On  its  last  night;  there  met  at  tl)e  Wal- 
ravcn  maiifion  a  few  fn^-ndn,  to  debate  what  ^tepi  had  better 
next  bj  taken. 

"  In  the  council  of  many  (b.ero  is  witrdom,"  tlionglit  Mr. 
Carl  Walri'.ven:  ao  that  t;hc;o  were  present,  l<C3i  Ics  Sir  IJoger 
Trajenna,  Dr.  Oleander,  Mr.  Sardaiiyx,  Hugh  Ingeluw,  and 
one  or  two  more  wiseacres,  all  anxious  about  tlio  mi^^ssing 
bride. 

The  bevy  of  gentlenion  Vi-ere  af?somldi.  il  in  the  drawing-room, 
conversing  witb  solemn,  Eeriuii-i  iuvc.^,  and  many  dubious 
shakes  of  the  lit-ad. 

Sir  IJoger  eat  the  jMeturc  of  pale  despair.  Mr.  Walraven 
looked  hara-sed  lialf  to  death.  Tlio  otiiei  gentlemen  were 
preteDiaturally  grave. 

"  It  ii  of  no  use,"  Sir  Ilogor  was  saying.  "  Those  who  ab- 
ducted her  have  laid  their  plans  too  well.  8ho  will  never  be 
found." 

"Are  you  sure  she  was  abducted?"  asked  J)r.  Oleander, 
doubtfully.  "  U  it  not  jiuit  possible,  my  dear  Sir  ]ioger,  she 
may  have  gone  od'  of  herself?" 

Everybody  stared  at  this  audacious  suggestion. 

" 'J'h<'re  is  no  such  iiossd/dity,  Doctor  01eand(>r,'' said  Sii 
IJogcr,  hanglitiiy.  "  The  bare  insinuation  is  uti  in-idl.  >dis3 
Dane  \\\ii  u\\  j)lightou  wife  of  her  o^'ii  free  will.'" 

"  ^  our  i'ardon,  8ir  Koger.  ^'ct,  j.loaio  remember,  ^diws 
Dane  u'as  a  highly  eccentric  vourig  lady,  and  the  rules  that 
hold  good  in  other  caies  fail  here.  She  was  iiccuL^tonud  to  do 
mosL  extraoidinary  thing?,  for  the  me-  sako  of  beitig  odd  iind 
uncommon,  us  1  take  if.  IFcr  guaruiiui  vrill  bear  me  oat; 
therefore  1  still  cling  to  tho  i)t)S.-,iliiiity. " 

*'  Besides,  young  ladies  possessing  sound  hnigs  will  hardl/ 
permit  ihemselves  to  be  carried  oil  wilii')iit  raisir.g  an  outcrv," 
said  Ml'.  .Sardonyy;  "and  in  this  cu.-e  there  was  none,  'i'he 
faintest  cry  would  iiavo  been  hi'urd." 

"  iSfeither  were  ili.ru  any  traces  of  !i  :  ijiigido,"  put  in  lSb\ 
Ingclow,  "and  the  chamber  window  w;!<  found  unfastened,  as 
if  tho  bride  h"d  loo^;'^-d  it  herself  iind  steppeil  out." 


THE    (NfcKl'N    BltlDEOKOOil. 


71 


•Sir  Iiogor  lookod  atigiily  urounu,  witli  u  ghiay*  Lli.iL  soumecl 
lo  jihIc  if  ilicy  W(^ri;  all  in  a  cons[iirafy  ajruiiu-L  him;  hul,  beforo 
h(!  (^(liild  .s[tL'a!-;,  tho  (U)(.>i'-beil  vaii^  loiidiy. 

Mr.  Wulravcii  reniciubcMvd  tiie  imonyiuoua  note,  and  stui tod 
violently.     An   inst;infc  later,  they  licurd  a  ser-;ant  op.'n  the 
door,  and  then 
hoiHe. 

'rJRro  was  one  sininltanoous  rui^li  oiit  ol"  flio  flrawinrr-room, 
and  d'AVii-stairs,  Tliere,  in  iho  ball,  dtoud  \\  ils  /n,  ibo  I'ooL- 
lUcin,  i^laring  and  gai^ping  a-;  if  liu  bad  L^ccn  a  ghost;  and  there, 
in  the  (b)or-\vay,  u  fiilvory,  sbinin^^  viriion,  in  the  snowy  bridui 
robes  siio  had  worn  last,  atood  Jlollie  Dane  I 


1  wiki,  ringing  shriek   eehocd    llirough   the 


CIIAPTKR   X. 

TIIK    I'AH.'^ON'y    LIlTl.)-:    STORY. 

TiTEin-:  was  a  dead  paust^;  blank  amazement  sat  on  every 
I'aoi';  no  one  .stirred  for  an  inrflant.  Tlien,  with  a  great  cry 
of  joy.  tho  WeL^h  baronet  sprung  forward  and  caught  his  lost 
bride  in  bi.'i  arms. 

"  My  MolliL—my  MoUiel     ■\[y  darling!" 

But  bis  darling,  instead  <■(  returning  his  rapturous  em- 
brace, disengaged  lierself  wiili  a  aiiddeu  jerk, 

"  Pray,  Sir  Uoiiei,  tut'd't  make  a  soenel  Ciuardy,  how  d'yo 
do:     Is  it  after  liinner?     I'm  ilr'  adfuliv  tired  and  b.inigry"" 

"Mollie:     (iued    heavens,    Molliel   "■       "  "  '      ' 

gas[)ed  Mr.  W  alraven,  starinu"  au'liast 


!5> 


"  Now — now 
your    asking: 


IS    this    really    J'ou.-'  ' 
•'"  cried  i\Iios  i>ane,  testilv;  "  wliat's  the  good 


n 


of  your  asking  ridiculoin  (picstions,  (iuardy  AValra\en? 
Whore's  y  ur  eyes-ight?  Don't  you  see  it's  me?  'Will  you 
kindly  lot  mo  pa^>',  gentlemen?  or  am  I  to  stand  heiO  all 
night  on  e.\liil)itinn?" 

Evidently  the  stra.y  buub  had  relurncd  to  tho  fold  in  shock- 
ing bad  tem[)er.  The  gentlemen  ijarring  ber  jias^^age  iitslant- 
ly  j)nido  way,  and  Mollie  turned  to  aseen\l  tho  staircase. 

"I'm  going  to  my  roo.ii,  gnardy,'"  she  condescended  to 
i^ay,  with  her  fo^Jt  on  tlio  lirst  carpeted  step,  "  und  y.)U  will 
})leaso  send  Luey  up  with  tea  and  toast  immediately.  I'm  a 
great  deal  too  tired  to  oli'er  any  e\[ilanation  to-night.  I  feed 
UB  it  I  had  lieen  riding  al)i>ut  in  a  h:iv'kney-(!ariiage  for  i\  ceid,- 
ury  or  two,  like  I'etcr  Ituug.  tho  mi.-ising  man — if  you  ever 
heard  of  Peter;"  with  which  Mi:-'s  l)ane  toiled  slowly  and 
wearily  up  tlie  graixi  staircase,  and  tho  group  of  gentlemen 
were  left  in  tho  hull  below  blankly  gazing  in  unu  another's 
faces. 


THE    UNSEEN    BRIDEGROOM. 


"  Kuiiueutly  characteristic,"  obtservctl.  Mr.  lugelow,  the 
lir.^t  to  break  the  silence,  with  u  soft  laugh. 

"  Upon  my  wonl,"  sai.l  Or.  Oleandei-,  with  hirf  deaih's-hoad 
emile,  "  Mi^s  MolJie'ri  rtturn  is  far  more  rt'inarkabJo)  than  her 
departurel  That  yount,'  huly's  s'n/t/-j'r(,i({  r(;quirc\s  to  bo  Hoen 
to  be  beiibveil  in." 

"  Where  can  she  have  been?'*  asiied  Lawyer  Hardonyx, 
helpK-ssly  takinjr  suuil. 

Tlie  two  ui.-n  uioat  interested  in  the  younj:^  lady's  return 
said  nothing;  they  were  far  beyond  that.  They  could  only 
look  at  tai-h  other  in  mute  astonishment.     At  last — 

*' 'J'he  anonymous  letter  did  speak  the  truth,"  observed 
Mr.  Walravtn. 

"  What  anonymous  letter?"  asked  Lawyer  Sardonyx, 
sharply. 

"  Sir  Roger  received  an  anonymous  letter  a  week  a<:;o,  in- 
forming him  Mollie  would  be  baek  a  week  after  its  date.  Wo 
reither  <jf  us  j^aid  any  atbeution  to  it,  and  yet,  I»!  it  has  como 
true." 

"  Have  you  that  iett.or  about  you,  Sir  Koger?"  infjuired  the 
lawyer.     ''  I  should  like  to  see  it,  if  you  have  no  oujeetion.'* 

Mechanieally  Sir  Kogur  put  his  haiid  in  his  pocket,  and 
produi-ed  the  (J<K:LimLiit.     I'he  lawyer  ghmce.l  kcL-niy  over  it. 

"'One  Who  Kuows.^  Ahl  'One  \\  ho  Knows'  is  a 
woman,  I  am  certain.  'I'hat's  a  woman's  hand,  I  am  posi- 
tivi\     Look  here,  Oleander!" 

**  My  opirdou  exactiyi  CouMn't  possibly  be  ]\liss  Dane's 
own  writing,  could  it?"  once  more  with  Ids  .ipectral  smile. 

*'  Sir!"  cried  the  baronf-t,  reddeinug  angrily. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  Hat  look  at  tiie  case  dispassionately, 
Sir  Rwger.  My  previous'  iuiprtssion  that  Miss  Dane  was  iiot 
forcibly  ubduciei  is  conlirmed  by  the  strange  manner  of  her 
return." 

"  Jliue  also,"  chimed  in  Laivyer  Sardonyx. 

*'  Suppose  we  ail  jifslpone  foiining  an  ojtinion  on  the  sub- 
ject," i-aid  the  la/y  vitice  of  tho  young  artist,  '"  until  to- 
morrow, and  allow  Mi>^  Dane,  when  kIic  has  recovered  from 
her  present  fati'^ue  and  hungtr,  to  explain  for  hers-elf. " 

"Thanks,  Ingeloiv  "  —  Mr.  Wair.iven  tnrne(l  a  gratcfid 
glance  upon  the  lounging  artist — "  and,  mtiuitime,  geiitlo- 
men,  let  us  adjourn  to  tho  drawing-room.  Standing  talking 
here  I  don't  a.imire.  " 

Ho  lei  the  Wiiv:  tho  others  followed — Sir  IJoger  last  of  all, 
lost  ;n  a  rha;;e  of  bewilderment  that  >.  tt-trly  spoiled  his  joy  ut 
hie  bride's  return. 


THE    UISSKLX    riUIDEOUGOy.. 


93 


"  What  caa  it  nifai)?  "What  can  it  mean?"  ha  kept  per- 
petually ii^kin<T  liiniHolf.  "  What  is  all  this  inystery?  Surely 
— surely  it  nan  not  bo  as  thc^e  men  sayl  Mollie  cau  not  huvo 
goiio  oil  of  herself!" 

It  win  rather  dull  the  remainder  of  tlic  eveninj.';.  Tho 
gTiests  took  their  departure  earlv.  »Sir  Roger  lingered  beliind 
the  rest,  and  when  alone  with  hini  the  master  of  the  house 
?uiianone!l  t^ucy.  That  hatidmaiden  appeared,  her  e3e3  danc- 
ing with  deli^dit  in  her  head. 

*'  Where  is  your  mif^tress,  Lucy?"  Mr.  Walraven  asked. 

"  (ione  ro  bed,  sir,"  said  Luev,  ])romptly. 

"  You  hi'ouglit  her  up  8uppe.  ?" 

"Yes,  sir. "^ 

"  What  did  she  say  to  you?" 

"  xs.»thing  much,  sir,  only  that  she  was  famished,  and  jolted 
to  death  in  that  old  carriage;  and  then  she  turned  me  out, 
sayimr  ste  felt  a.-^  though  she  could  sleep  a  week.'" 

*'  Notldtig  more?" 

"Xotiiing  more,  sir." 

Lucy  was  dismissed. 

Mr.  Walraven  turned  to  the  baronet  sympathizingly. 

*'  1  feel  as  deeply  mystilied  and  distressed  about  this  matter 
as  even  you  Ciin  do,  my  dear  tSir  Koger;  but  you  perceive  there 
is  nothing  for  it  but  to  wait.  Oleander  was  right,  this  evening 
v.-heii  he  said  the  rules  tiiat  measure  other  women  fail  with 
Molli.'.  She  is  an  original,  and  we  must  be  content  to  bide 
her  time.  Come  early  to-morrow — come  to  brcaLi'ai-t — and 
doubtless  all  will  be  exjjhiiiu'd  to  our  satisfaction." 

And  so  i\[r.  Walraven  thought,  and  lie  fancied  lie  under- 
stood Mollie  pretty  well;  but  even  Mr.  Wahaven  did  not  know 
the  depth  of  aggravation  his  flighty  ward  was  capable  of. 

Sir  Hogerdid  come  early  on  the  morrow — ridictdously  early, 
Mrs.  Carl  said,  sharplv;  but  then  Mrs,  Civ]  was  cxa>[)erafed 
beyond  everything  at  Mollie  presuming  to  return  at  all.  She 
w.is  sure  she  had  got  rid  of  her  so  ni(!cly — so  sun-  Mistress 
.'•h/llie  had  cruue  to  grit  1'  in  some  way  for  her  sins — that  it  waa 
a  little  too  IhuI  to  have  her  come  walking  coolly  ba(:k  and  tak- 
ing poss'cssiop.  a!:;ain,  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 

JJreakfast  h()ur  arrived,  but  Miss  Dune  did  not  arrive  wit.h 
it.  They  waited  ten  minutes,  wheti  Mrs.  Carl  lost  patience 
jnd  iH'otested  angrilv  she  woidd  not  wait  an  instant  longer. 

'*  Iv'ci'utricity  is  a  little  too  miM  a  word  to  apj)ly  to  your 
ward's  actions,  Mr.  Walraven,"  fho  said,  tmniiig  angrily 
njv-n  her  husL'ttiid.  "•  j\I<'Uie  i)ane  '}■:■  ciiln  r  ;i  very  mad  girt 
or  a  very  wicked  o/io.     Lu  eith.er  casr,  she  is  a  lit  subject  for  a 


7i 


THE    UNSEEN    ISKIDEGROOM. 


lunfitic  asylum,  and  the  sooner  iJic  is  incised  in  a  strait-jacket 
and  her  antics  eudtd,  tlie  belter.'^ 

"  Jladamel"  thiiiidered  Mr.  'Walravrn,  fmi,  u;^iy,  ^vhile  llio 
baroni  t  reddcued  with  rage  to  Ih.'  roots  of  his  eilvery  hair. 

"Oil,  I^m  not  afaiid  of  you,  Mr.  Widiiuen,"  snid  Mrs. 
Widraven,  cooUy,  "nor,  afraid  to  speak  my  /n'nd.  eitlicr. 
Kone  but  a  lnnati>.'  would  act  as  bhe  has  acted,  ri.nnir,^  away 
on  her  wiMlding-night  and  coming  b;ii  !<  a  fortnight  after. 
The  idea  of  her  being  forciMy  abducted  is  all  stidT  and  ni<n- 
senso.  He;uen  only  knows  where  the  patt  two  weik.s  have 
been  spent!" 

''Mrs.  U'alruvon,"  said  ilie  "Wdsh  baronet,  with  uv-fid, 
suppressed  passion,  "  vou  forget  vou  F])eak  of  mv  future 
wife.'' 

"  I  forget  nothing,  Sir  linger  Trajonna.  When  I\Iiss  Dane 
gives  a  satisfactory  explanation  of  her  conduct  it  will  be  (juito 
time  enough  to  take  her  ]ni(t.  Mr.  Walraven  are  you  going 
to  eat  your  brei.kiast,  or  am  I  to  take  it  alone?" 

Mr.  Walraven  seized  the  bell-rope  and  nearly  tore  it  down. 

A  maid-ser\  ant  ap]ieared. 

"Co  up  to  Iiliss  Dane's  room  and  tell  her  we  are  wailing 
breakfudt."  roared  Mr.  Walraven  in  a  Ktentorian  voice. 

The  girl  obeyed  in  diic  alarm.     In  an  instant  :]i"  was  Ija  k. 

"  i\Iiss  I)ane''8  not  up  yet,  and  says  she  doesn't  exjiect  to  be 
for  some  time,  bhe  says  you'd  better  not  wait  for  lier,  as  you 
will  very  likely  be  painfidly  hungry  if  you  do." 

"  ]  thought  so,"  nmarked  Mrs.'  Carl,  shnrily. 

Mr.  Walraven  hit  his  lip,  the  barenot  looked  like  a  thunder- 
cloud, but;  both  took  tilt  ii- I'lnces.  To  all  but  the  mistress  of 
the  mansion  the  breakfast  business  was  a  dead  l:'.ilure.  Mrs. 
Carl  ejiL  with  a  very  good  appetite,  liuihhed  her  nual,  arose, 
rang  the  bell,  and  f  rdered  the  earriage  to  be  ri  itd  v  in  an  hour. 

The  gentlrmcn  adjourned  to  the  library  to  smoke  and  Wiiit. 
The  hour  idap.-:ed.  Mrs.  Waliaven  de}iurled  in  .state,  and  dead 
calm  full  ujion  the  house.  Another  hfuir — the  waiting  twain 
were  growing  fidgety  and  nervous,  crackling  their  newspa])ers 
and  pulling  at  their  cigars. 

"  1  vow  that  mad  girl  is  making  mc  as  hyslerieal  us  a 
cranky  old  maid  I"  growled  Mr.  Wiilraven.  "if  she  doitsn't 
appear  in  half  ati  hour,  I'll  go  up  to  her  room,  and  carry  her 
down  willy-nillyl" 

"  Would  you  really  be.  .s.-)  eruel,  guardy?"  t'uid  a  soft  voici^ 
and  wheeling  rountl,  the  astonislied  pair  saw  the  cidprit  before 
them.     "Have  you  no   pity  for  your  jmor  little  Mollic,  and 


THE    UNSEEN    BIlIDEGKOOAr. 


76 


can't  you  lot  her  be  as  lazy  as  she  pleasca?  Good-morning,  iSir 
Iloger  Trajenna. " 

J  low  lovi'ly  ^rollie  looked  I  '^I'ho  golden  curls  fell  in  a  shin- 
ing sliower  over  the  dainty  white  cadiniere  I'ohe,  belccd  wiih 
hluo  velvet,  Hoft  white  lace  and  a  diamond  pin  sparkling  at 
tho  roumled  throat.  She  came  forward  with  a  bright  smilo 
and  outstreteheil  hand  to  greet  them. 

"1  was  cross  la:st  night,  you  know,"  xhe  «i;d,  "and 
couldn't  jiroperly  speak  to  my  friends,  '^rravuling  steadily, 
for  goydncs.i  Icuows  how  many  hours,  in  a  bumping  coach* 
would  wear  out  the  patiunco  of  a  saint — and  yon  know  I'm 
not  a  sainti" 

"  Iso,"  said  i\Ir.  Walraven;  "  very  far  from  it.  Kearer  the 
other  thing,  1  sirs});'ct. " 

"  Now,  giiardy,"  said  JMolIie,  reproachfully,  *'  hnv,-  canycu? 
And  after  I've  been  lost,  and  you've  been  all  distr;ieted  about 
me,  tool  Oh,  how  f  siiould  like  to  have  seen  the  fuss  and  tho 
uproar,  imd  the  dismay  and  distraction  gcnerallyl     l>o  tell  mo 


what  you  all  thought." 

"  I'll  tell  you  Jiothing  of  tho  sort,'^  said  her  guardian, 
sternly.  "  Have  you  no  feeling  in  that  llinty  heart  of  yotu-s, 
MoUie  Hane?" 

"  Well,  now,  guardy,  it  you'll  believe  me,  I'm  not  so  sure 
I've  got  a  heart  at  all.  'I'here's  something  that  beats  hi 
here  "' — l;i[)ping  lightly  on  lier  white  bodice — *'  i-ut  for  going 
frantic  with  love  or  hate,  or  ji'alousy  or  sorrow,  or  any  of  those 
hysterical  things  that  other  pciplc'.s  hearts  y-im  made  for,  I 
don't  believe  I  have.  I  tell  you  this  frankly  " — glancing  side- 
wavs  at  .Sir  liog(!r  Trajenna — "  in  order  to  Wiirn  you  and 
cverybi  (ly  not  to  be  too  fond  of  me.  I'm  not  worth  it,  yon 
see,  and  if  you  take  mo  for  more  than  my  value,  and  get  dis- 
apitointed  afterward,  the  faidt's  not  mine,  l»ut  yours." 

Mr.  Walraven  looked  at  lier  in  surprise. 

"  IJafher  a  lengthy  speech,  isn't  it,  Jlollie?  Suppo-:e  you 
leave  olt  lecturing,  ami  tell  us  where  you've  been  for  tho  last 
two  weeks." 

"  Where  do  yon  suppose  I've  been?" 

"  We  can't  Mippose  on  such  a  (|aestiou;  it  is  impossible.  1 
desire  vou  to  tell  us." 

"  And  if  1  don't,  guardy?" 

She  looked  up  at  him  rather  dclianlly — seated  on  a  low 
stool,  her  (^Klsh  chin  in  her  eiiisli  hand,  her  Jiretty  litl  le  r(>se* 
bloom  face  ])eeping  brightly  out  from  ike  acentcd  vellow  curls^ 

*'  Mollie!" 


76 


THE    UNSKEN    BRIDKCROOf. 


"  Giiardy,  see  liere:  it's  of  no  uso  gcttinpj  crops.  T  can't 
tell  you  whcro  I've  been,  bectiuso  1  don't  know  nivself. " 

"Muliic!" 

"  It's  true  as  preaching,  guardy.  Yon  know  I  don't  toll 
fibs — excej)t  ill  fiiti.  I  don't  know  whcro  I  was,  and  so  I  rau't 
tell  you,  and  I'd  a  good  deal  rather  you  wouldn't  ask  me." 

"Molliol" 

"  Oh,  what's  tlie  U3e  of  Mollioing?"  cried  the  young  lady, 
waxing  impatient.  "  1  was  taken  somewhere,  and  1  don't 
know  where — 'pon  my  word  and  honor,  I  don't — and  I  was 
k(!pt  a  })ris»ner  in  a  na=ty  room,  by  pei)[)le  1  don't  know,  to 
puuk<h  mo  for  ilirling,  1  was  told;  and  when  1  was  there  two 
weeks,  a?id  punished  sutliciently,  Heaven  knows,  1  was  fetchefl 
liome.  Guardy,  there's  everything  I  know  or  can  tell  you 
about  tlie  matter.  Nov*',  jilease  bo  good,  and  don't  bolher 
with  tiresome  questions." 

Mr.  Walraven  stood  and  looked  at  l-.er,  a  jietrified  gazer. 
Siu;h  u?dieard-of  impudence!  Sir  lioger  Trajejina  took  up  the 
catechism. 

'*  Your  pardon,  Mollie,  but  I  must  aslc  you  a  few  more 
fjupstions.  There  was  a  young  jjerson  brought  y!)u  a  letter  on 
the  night  we.  were — "  His  voice  failed.  "  May  1  ask  who 
was  that  young  person,  and  what  were  the  contents  of  that 
letter?" 

Mollie  looked  up,  frowning  impatiently.  ]>ut  the  baronet 
was  so  pale,  and  troubled  asking  his  questions  that  she  had  not 
the  heart  to  refuse. 

"  That  young  person.  Sir  Koger,  called  herself  Sarah  Grant. 
The  letter  piu-ported  to  come  from  a  woman  who  knew  me 
before  1  knew  myself.  It  told  me  tdu;  was  dying,  and  liad 
important  revelations  to  make  to  mc— implored  im-  to  liar^.tcn 
at  once  if  I  woidd  see  her  alive.  J  believed  tlie  letter,  and 
went  with  Sarah.  T'liat  letter,  Sir  lioger,  was  a  forgery  and 
M  trap." 

"  Into  which  you  fell?" 

'*  Into  which  I  fell  headlong.  '^Fhe  greatest  ninny  alive 
cnnld  not  have  been  snared  mote  easily." 

"  Yoi>  have  no  iiiea  who  j)erpet!ated  this  atrocity?"' 

"  No,"  said  Mollie,  "  no  idea.  I  wish  I  had!  If  I  wouldn't 
make  him  sup  sorrow  in  spoonfuls,  my  name's  not  Midlie! 
There,  Sir  Roger,  that  will  do.  You've  hoard  all  I've  got  to 
tell,  and  the  bettor  way  will  be  to  aslc  no  more  qnrsrinns.  If 
you  think  I  am  not  sufficiently  explicit — if  you  think  \  keep 
anything  hivck  that  you  have  a  right  to  knuw — why,  there  iti 
only  one  course  left.     You  can  take  it,  and  welcome.     I  re- 


THE    UNSEKN    BHTDEGROOM.  77 

lease  yoii  from  iill  tics  to  mo.  1  nhall  think  you  {»tiirec;t!y  jus- 
lili'il,  iuii]  wo  will  cdJttiniie  tlie  bont  |)03si!ili!  frietids."  tSlic 
riuid  it  ill  lalv,  with  uu  cyo  tijiit  ilushoil  jukI  a  clieeic  llint 
bnrni'l.  "  There  id  only  one  Ihi'i':;  ciin  iniike  uti  (juarnl,  Si^ 
|{not^:  ..-ihi-.t  is,  uskiTicf  niP  '[iiostion.s  1  don't  chooso  f,o  unsvver. 
An<l  J  don't  (iiiooso  to  answer  in  tiie  present  caso. " 

"  JUit  I  in:si.st  upon  your  answcniiE^,  Mollio  Dane!"'  burst 
nut  Carl  "Wai raven.  "  I  don't  cIiooa!  to  bo  mystilit'd  a'ld 
humbn^ijgivl  in  this  cgn'^ioius  manner.  1  insiot  upon  a  coni- 
])lote  fXplauiiLion." 

"  J)o  von,  indocd,  Jlr.  Walravcn?  And  how  are  you  going 
to  get  it?" 

"  h'rnin  you,  Mollio  Dane." 

"  Not  if  1  know  my.->'lf — and  I  ruther  fancy  1  dol  Oji,  no, 
Mr.  Walraven — no,  you  don't!  1  slia'n't  say  unotiier  word  to 
you,  or  to  any  othm*  living  being,  until  1  choose;  a?id  it's  no 
ui-ii  bullying,  for  yon  can't  malvo  lae,  you  know.  I've  given 
(Sir  Roger  his  alternative!,  and  I  can  give  ^on  yours.  If  you 
don't  fancy  my  remaining  hero  under  a  clond,  why,  T  can  go 
as  I  came,  free  as  tho  wind  that  bbws.  You've  only  to  say 
the  word,  (juardy  Ualraven!" 

The  blue  eyes  Ihishcd  as  Oarl  "Walraven  had  never  seen 
tliem  Hash  before;  the  ])ink-tirii:ed  cheeks  flamed  rose-red; 
but  her  voice  never  rose,  and  .sh-j  kipt  her  quaint  seat  on  tin 
stool. 

"Cricket!  Cricket!  Cricket!"  was  "guardy's"  reproach, 
fnl  cry. 

"  "^'ou  dear  old  thing!  You  wouldn't  like  to  lose  your 
Imtitful  little  torn-boy,  would  yon?  Wtll,  you  slia'n't,  either. 
1  only  meant  to  siaru  you  that  time.  You'll  uik  me  no  more 
nasty  questions,  ajid  I'll  stay  and  be  your  Crick'  i  Il)e  same  as 
ever,  and  we'll  try  and  forget  the  little  epi'-'ode  of  ilie  past  two 
weeks.  Anil  as  for  you,  h»ir  lioger,  don't  you  do  anything 
rasii.  -lust  think  things  over,  and  mitko  sure  you're  perfectly 
satislied,  b^'foro  you  havo  anything  to  do  with  ni.\  f(;r  1  don't 
intend  to  explain  any  more  Uian  1  have  e.\[)hunL'd.  I'm  a 
goed-for-notliing,  giddy  lit  lie  moth,  I  know;  but  I  doi;'t, 
really  want  to  deceivn  anybody.  No;  don't  rpoak  on  impuls(;, 
dear  Sir  IJoger.     Tako  a  week  or  two,  and  think  ubout  it." 

She  kissed  her  hand  (!oquettishly  to  the  two  gentlemen,  and 
tripped  out  of  the  ro"m. 

And  there  Ihcy  sat,  looking  at  each  oth'T,  aUogothcr  be- 
wildered and  dazed,  and  altogether  more  infatuated  ab;'Ut  her 
than  ev(!r. 

Society  was  eleetrilied  at  finding  ?-!'s:3  Dane  back,  and  hxked 


78 


THF.    1X3F.KN    BRTPrfUtOOM. 


j^aRorly  for  tlio  r.equtj   io  |]ii,-i  liitio  romunoe.     'I'hey  got  it 
A'lOni  ^Tr.  Waliiucti. 

Mr.  v.  iiiriiven,  iiliuul  ua  oil,  told  Hicm  lii-^  wurii  li.id  rocoivod 
071  h(;r  brid;ij  ?ii.i;iit  !i  ;-niiniiiony  to  tho  bcd.-id-j  ol'  u  liyiiij,'  and 
vory  near  reliitivo.  i\[isd  J)ano,  ever  impiilHive  imd  eoceiitric, 
li;id  srnne.  SIio  hud  renminod  witii  tho  (lying  rolntivo  for  a 
fortiii>:;lit,  iiiid  mertdy  for  luisi  liief — no  iiocd  to  Itll  thoni  how 
mirfciiii.:vr/iis  iii:5  ward  was — liatl  kept  thn  tvhn!i>  nuittor  a  secret. 
It  was  vory  provoki'ig,  certainly,  but  wa.s  ,iii-<t  like  provoking 
Moliio  l);i!iO. 

Mr.  AValravon  related  tliis  little  fahlu  ..liiing  sweetly,  and 
with  excfllont  gncc.  ]Uit  society  took  tiie  i-lvcy  for  wiiat,  it 
was  worth,  and  shook  it.s  huiul  portentoiihly  over  ^Alijjs  Dane 
and  her  mysteries. 

!sobody  ki\ew  wlio  pho  was,  vvliere  slie  oanie  from,  or  what 
relation  tlio  bore  to  Mr.  Wal raven,  and  nobody  believed  Mr. 
Wal raven  and  his  little  romance. 

liut  as  Mesdames  AValraven,  mother  and  wife,  countenanced 
the  oxtraordina'-y  cri'ature  with  tlr^  lliyhty  way  and  amber 
curls,  and  as  she  was  the  ward  of  a  millionaire,  why,  society 
smiled  graciously,  and  welcomed  MuUie  back  with  charminj^ 
sweetness. 

A  fortni.irht  pas^•ed — tho  fortnight  of  probation  she  had 
given  Sir  linger.  Thero  wa-j  a  grand  (li)iner-i';n  t,y  at  S!)ino 
comHicrcial  nabob's  ii]»  the  avenue,  and  all  tli;!  Wal  raven 
family  were  there.  There,  too,  was  the  Widsli  baronet, 
stately  and  grand-seigneur-like  as  ever;  there  wei'c  I'r.  Olean- 
der, Lawyer  Sardonyx,  Hugh  Ingelow,  and  tho  little  u'iti'h 
who  had  thrown  her  wicked  sorceries  over  them,  brighter, 
more  sparkling,  more  lovely  than  ever. 

And  at  tli(:  dinner-[)a;'ty  Mnllie  was  destined  to  rceive  a 
shock;  for,  just  before  ihcy  ])aired  olf  to  the  dining-room, 
there  entered  a  late  guest,  announced  as  the  "  IJeverend  Mr. 
Kashleij^di,"  and,  looking  in  the  lioverend  ivlr.  Jia  hleigh's 
face,  MoUie  Dane  recognized  him  at  once. 

She  was  staii<ling  at  the  instant,  as  it  chanced,  beside  Hugh 
Ingelow,  gayly  hel[)ing  him  to  satirize  a  magnilicenL  "dia- 
mond wedding  "  th(!y  hud  lately  attended;  but  at  the  sight  of 
the  ])ortlv,  comu'onpiace  genlleman,  the  words  seeuied  tu 
freeze  on  her  li])S. 

With  her  eyes  fixed  on  his  face,  her  own  slowly  whitening 
until  it  Wf'.s  blanched,  M')llie  stooil  and  gazed  and  gazed. 
Hugh  Ingelow  looked  cuiiouyly  fn)m  one  to  the  other. 

"  In  Heaven's  name,  Jliss  Mollie,  do  you  see  the  Marble 
Guest,  or  some  invisible  familiar,  peei)ing  over  that  fat  geu 


TTiK  rNPFTiN  r.RinriinooM. 


79 


tlonian'rf  slioiiMci?    Wlint  do  you  sne?     You  Io"l<  us  tlj/uyh 
y^m  wcro  ^niitit;  to  I'liinl." 

"  Do  you  !.ii".v  tlijic  [rcntlemiiu?"  sho  iiiivnarjcd  to  upk. 

"J) 'I  l:n  i'.v  him— lJ"v.'ivii(l  L'iivru  .nd  IfaKlilci-Ii:-'  ]!"tl.or 
thiin  r  know  iiiy-^tlf,  Alis.s  Dano.  W  lifu  J  was  a  littlo  ( !i;i|i  in 
rouudahouts  Uicy  u.hmI  to  take  mv  lo  his  ('Iiiirch  evorv  Smidav, 
imd  ki'op  ruo  in  wri^;,dini,'  lorninitH  tliroiicdi  a  throii-liuurs* 
.sermon.     Yes,  1  know  liini,  to  mv  .sorrow." 

"  l[o  13  a  cliTL^vmin,  then?"  AFoIIio  naid,  slowly. 

~M\'.  Ingi'low  siand  at.  the  odd  question. 

"■  I  have,  alwav.^  lahorrd  midir  that  impression,  Miss  Dano, 
and  80  (loos  tho  TiVvtM'cnd  Mr.  IJashloigh  himself,  I  fancy.  If 
you  ('hooso,  I'll  jirosont  him,  and  then  you  can  orosfi-(]Ut'stion 
l)im  at  your  leisure." 

''  is'o,  no!"  cried  JIdllio,  detaining  liim;  '*  not  for  'ho 
world!  I  <]•  li't  wish  to  make  hi.s  awjuaintance.  See,  tluy 
are  iilini,'  oil'!     I  fiill  to  y-m'  lot,  I  suppose. " 

Sho  took  her  rejected  suitor's  arm  —  .somrh  ^w,  she  was 
growing  to  like  to  he  with  Hugh  Ingelow — ;uid  they  entered 
th'*  dining-rocm  together.  HuL  iMoliio  waa  tlill  v(  ly,  \ery 
])aie,  and  v(>ry  unusually  cpiiet. 

Ilcrfaoe  and  neck  gleanied  ai.'.''.inst  her  ])ink  dinner-dross 
lilio  snow,  and  her  eyes  wand;  red  f  lU'tively  evei'  a!id  anon  over 
to  (he  licverend  Mr.  Ifashloiidi. 

She  listened  to  every  word  that  he  r])oke  as  though  they 
were  the  fal)ied  pearls  and  diamonds  uf  the  fairy  tale  that 
dropjied  from  his  lij)s. 

"  Positively,  Miss  Dane,"  Hugh  Ingelow  remarked  in  his 
lazy  voice,  "it  i.s  love  at  lir.st  sight  with  the  iievcrend  Ray- 
mond. 'J'hink  better  of  it,  i)ray:  he's  fat  and  forty,  and  has 
one  V,  ife  already." 

"  Hush!"  said  ]\Iollie,  imperiously. 

And  Mr.  Ingelow,  stroking  his  mustache  meditatively, 
hushed,  and  Ikstened  to  a  story  the  Ifeverend  ^Mr.  L'a'^hleigli 
was  about  to  relate. 

"  So  extraordinary  n  story,"  he  said,  glancing  around  him, 
"  that  1  can  hardly  reali/.r  it.  myself  nr  tu'eiiit  my  own  senses. 
It  is  the  only  adventure  of  my  life,  and  I  am  free  to  confess  I 
ftish  it  may  renuiin  so. 

"  It  is  aboidi  three  wicks  ago.  I  was  sittiiig,  one  ttormy 
•light — 'Tuesday  night  it  was — in  mv  studv,  in  after-(lin?uu' 
inood,  enjoying  the  luxury  of  a  gnod  lire  and  a  private  clerifal 
cigar,  wh'ii  a  young  woman  — respectable-looking  \i»iing  jjcr- 
soD — entered,  and  informed  mo  that  u  sickly  reliitivc,  Ironi 


80 


THE    UNSP.F.N    TlKIDKOnOOM. 


whom  1  luivo  expectations,  was  dying,  and  witjhod  to  see  mo 
iuinicdiiitely. 

"  Of  course  I  stiirtcd  up  «t  onco,  donned  li;it  uiid  jrrciit- 
eoiit,  and  followed  mv  Mspoctidih;  yniin;,'  pt'r,-(;n  into  a  cab 
\vaitin<r  iit  tho  door.  Ifiudiy  waM  I  in  when  J  was  ecizod  by 
some  inviaiblo  pyrsonat^i.',  Ixmnd,  blindfoMi'd,  iind  f;ii/jf!,'«'d,  nnd 
driven  throu<:h  the  t-iuiry  spliorcs,  for  all  I  know,  for  lioiuvs 
anil  hour.-j  intiirminablo. 

"  Presently  wo  .st(i})]iod.  1  was  !i  d  out — led  into  a  house, 
upstairi',  my  uncomfortable  bandaj^cd  removed,  and  tiio  uiio  of 
my  eyesight  restored. 

"  T  was  in  a  lartre  room,  furnished  very  much  like  anybody's 
parlor,  and  brilliantly  lighted.  My  eoni[)!Hiion  of  the  earriagu 
was  still  at  my  elbow.  1  turneil  to  rcjrai-d  him.  My  friends, 
he  was  masked  like  a  Venetian  bravo,  antl  wore  a  romantic 
inky  cloak,  liko  a  b'omiui  toga,  that  swept  the  floor. 

'*  I  sat  agha.-it,  tho  cold  pei.'-pinition  oozing  from  every  pore. 
I  make  light  of  it  now,  but  I  ooull  see  nothing  to  laugh  at 
then.  Was  I  g'  ing  to  be  robbeil  ami  murdered?  Why  luid  I 
been  decoyed  here? 

"  iMv  friend  of  the  mask  did  not  leave  me  long  in  suspense. 
Not  death  and  its  horrors  wiis  to  be  eiiiiclcd,  but  niarri;ige — 
marriage,  my  fiiends — and  I  wus  to  perform  the  ceremony. 

"  I  listened  to  him  like  a  man  in  a  dream.  He  him-elf  was 
the  bridegroonx.  The  bride  wus  to  a])[»ear  marked,  also,  and 
I  was  0!dy  to  hiiir  tlitiir  Chri.-;tian  nam.,'s — Krnest, — Mary,  llo 
offered  no  explanations,  no  ai)oli)gies;  lie  simply  stated  facts. 
I  was  to  marry  them  and  ask  iio  (juestions,  and  1  was  to  be 
conveyed  safely  homo  the  same  night.     If  I  refused — 

"  My  masked  gentleman  [liiured,  and  left  an  awful  hiatus 
for  me  to  lill  up.  I  did  r^ot  refu-e— by  no  miiins.  It  has 
always  been  my  way  to  make  tho  best  of  a  bad  bargain — of 
two  evils  to  choose  the  lesser.     1  consented. 

"  The  bridegroom  with  tho  bia*  k  mask  quitted  tho  room, 
and  returned  with  a  bride  in  a  white  mask.  She  was  all  in 
white,  as  it  is  right  and  proper  to  be — flowing  veil,  orange 
wreath,  trailing  silk  robe — everything  (pnte  nice.  But  the 
white  mask  spoiled  all.  bhe  was  undersized  and  very  slender, 
and  there  was  one  peculiarity  about,  her  I  noticed — an  abun- 
dance of  bright,  golden  ringlets." 

The.  reverend  gentlemjin  p;iused  an  instant  to  take  breath. 

Mollie  Dane,  scarcely  breaihing  herself,  listening  absorbed, 
here  became  conscious,  by  some  sort  of  prescience,  of  th« 
basilisk  gaze  her  guardian's  wife  had  fi.Ted  upon  her. 


THK    t'NSKEN     BHIDKGUOOM. 


81 


Tho  sLiiin^'cHt,  smile  .sat  on  licr  arroirant  fiicc  as  fcliu  lookcil 
eti'Uilfuj'lly  at  Arollii-'.s  llowinj^  yellow  ciirld. 

*'  1  iiiarriid  that  iii\-:torioii.s  pair,"  wi'tit  on  tho  cler<.'yman 
— "  KrnisD  and  May.  'I'Iuto  wero  two  vvitnoe'rfos — my  re- 
8|)t'(;tal)ln  ycuni^  woman  ami  the  0(a('hman;  thero  was  tin.*  ring 
— (;V('i  vtliin;,'  ncrcsnary  ami  [n'opiT. " 

Molliu's  lift  hand  wa.^  (ii  tlu!  tablo.  A  plain,  thick  band 
of  gold  }:I(ani"(l  on  the  Ih'-id  lin^'i;r.  l-'he  iuisiily  yiiatrlad  it 
away,  but  not  bt-fori'  Mis.  Walravcn'a  black  vyva  taw  it. 

"I  wa!<  brought  Immo,"  concliidt'd  the  clergyman,  "and 
h'ft  standing,  an  morning  l)roko,  rilose  to  my  own  door,  and  1 
havt!  nevnr  lu-ard  or  t^^H'n  my  mysU-rioiKS  miuskH  Hince.  I'hcro's 
an  adventure  for  yon!" 

'I'he  ladir.s  ;o,-''  from  I  he  tabic  As  tlicy  jiassod  into  the 
drawing-room,  ..  i. and  fill  npon  Afollie's  s-hoiddt.'r.  (ilancing 
back,  she  saw  tho  face  of  Mr-i.  Carl  Walravuii,  lighted  witii  a 
malicion.s  smile. 

"Such  a  (jneer  story,  Moliie!  And  snch  an  odd  bride — 
undersized,  very  slender,  golden  ringlets — name,  Maryl  My 
j)retty  (Jrieket,  I  think  I  know  where  yon  jiassed  that  inys- 
fcerious  fortnight!" 


CIIAl^TKU  XI. 

A    MIliNKillT   TKTE-A-TF.TE. 

iroF-LiF  Daxk  .sat  alone  in  her  ])retty  room.  A  bright  fire 
bnrnod  in  tiie  grale.  Old  Mmu.  Walravcn  liked  ci'al-iires,  and 
wonld  have  th  m  throjighont  tht,'  honso.  Jt  was  very  lute — 
])ust  midnight — but  the  ga-;  l)iirned  fidl  flare,  its-  garish  ilame 
sid),lned  by  globe.s  of  timed  gia.s-',  and  Moliie,  on  a  low  stool 
before  the  lire,  was  still  in  all  the  splendor  of  her  pink  silk 
di?iner-dr(i-'S,  her  laces,  htr  pcnirl^i. 

i\lullitj's  eonsidering-iap  wa.s  on,  and  Mollio's  dainty  brows 
wero  contracted,  and  tho  rosebnd  month  ominously  pnckered. 
Mi.ss  Dane  was  doing  wi)at  she  did  not  often  do — thinking — 
and  the  thonjj,hts  cha.-ing  one  another  thrungh  her  Highly 
brain  were  pvidently  the  reverse  of  pleasant. 

"  iSo  I'm  reallv  marrieil,"  mnsed  the  yoinig  ladv — "  really 
and  tridy  nnirriid! — and  I've  been  thinking  all  along  it  wurf 
onlv  a  sham  ceremony." 

She  lifted  up  her  left  hand  and  looked  at  the  shining  wed- 
ding-ring. 

"  Ernest!  Snch  a  ))ietty  luime!  And  tiiat's  all  I  know 
about  liim.  Oh,  who  is  he,  among  all  the  men  i  know — who? 
It's  not  Doctor  Oleander — I'm  certain  it's  not,  although  the 


83 


'Jlii;     L  NbKl.N    JilllDEUItOOM. 


lieight  and  sIiujjo  are  the  saruo;  uihI  1  doii't  think  iL^^  Sar- 
ilonyx,  itnd  I  know  it's  not  l[u*,di  Ingoiow — !  ami-'  me  Ihij^li! 
— bociiuso  iiu  liiisn't  the  pluck,  and  lio's  a  "rn  ;it  did  tno  Im-.y. 
If  it's  tho  liuvyer  or  the  doctor,  I'll  have  a  divorce,  ceitain. 
If  it  were  tlie  artis^t — niorc's  tlio  ])ity  it's  not — J — Ufll,  I 
shouldn't  ask  for  a  divorcj.  I  do  like  Hik^IiI  I  like  him 
more  and  moio  i*v»ry  day,  aJid  1  almost  wish  I  hadn't  ]ilayod 
that  slianii'ful  trii  k  ui)on  tdm.  J  i\-noiV  he  loves  mi'  dearly — 
poor  little,  njadduadul  lue!  Ami  1 — ohi  h)'.v  could  J  think 
to  marry  hir  iiogor  Trajenna,  knowing  in  my  licart  J  Ivwl 
Iluuh?  J)tar,  dearl  it's  such  a  pity  I  can't  be  good,  and  lake 
to  love-making,  and  marriage,  and  shirt-1  uttons,  like  othci 
girls!  liut  I  can't;  it's  n(;t  in  me.  1  was  born  a  rattle-pate, 
and  1  don't  see  how  any  one  can  blame  mo  for  letting  '  nater 
caper.*  " 

She  rose  up  impatiently  and  began  pacing  tiierooni — always 
lier  first  impulse  in  moments  of  jierplexity. 

"  I'm  a  mystery  and  a  puzzle  to  myself  and  in  everybody 
else.  I  don't  know  who  J  am.  nor  wjiat  my  real  nam;!  may 
be— if  I  have  any  right  to  a  namel  ]  ilon't  know  what  J  am 
to  tin's  ^\v.  Walraven,  and  1  don^t  know  who  that  mysterious 
woman,  Miiiam,  is.  i  don't  know  anvthing.  I  have  a  hus- 
1,'and,  and  I  duu't  know  him — shouldn't  rcicognize  him  if  I 
met  him  face  to  fai^e  this  instant.  I'm  like  the  mysterious 
orphans  in  the  story-books,  and  I  expect  it  will  turn  out  I 
have  a  duke  for  a  father,  somewhere  or  other." 

Miss  Dane  walked  to  the  window,  drew  tlie  curtain,  and 
looked  out. 

I'lie  full  April  moon,  round  and  white,  shone  down  in  sil- 
verv  radiance  upon  tho  deserted  avenue;  tho  sky  was  ugiitter 
witii  myriad  stars:  tho  rattling  of  belated  vehicles  came,  faint 
and  far  oil',  on  the  windless  night. 

No  one  was  visible— not  awn  a  stray  "guardian  of  the 
night,"  treading  his  solitary  round — and  Mollie,  after  one 
glance  at  the  suirry  (;oncave,  was  about  to  dro])  tho  curtuiU 
and  retire,  when  a  tall,  dark  liguro  came  iluttering  up  the 
street,  j)ausiiig  before  the  AValraven  mansion,  and  gai-^ing  u[) 
earnestly  at  its  palatial  front. 

^I^oilie  recognized  that  towering  form   ins^tantly,  and,  im- 
pulsively opeiung  the  sash,  she  leaned  forward  and  (tailed: 
"Miriam!" 

'I'ho  woman  heard  her,  responded,  and  adva)icod. 

.AIoUo  leaned  further  out. 

"'  iiuve  you  ;ome  to  see  me?" 


TriK    UNSEEN    lilliDEnnOOM. 


Sjf 


Ull- 


"  J  lilioulil  iik(!  in  sm;  you.  I  hoard  you  luiil  Rl.iirne.l,  and 
cfimn  hero,  thoiiuh  I  did  not  expect  to  meet  you  !»,t  tlii;s  hour. " 

''  Wait  oiii;  jiioMicnt,"  saidMollio;  ''  J  will  ;:/)  down  and  lijt 
you  in." 

She  closed  tlio  window  and  fiOw  down-stai.'.'J,  openf'tl  tho 
liouse  door  softly,  and  beckojicd. 

Miriatu  c?iton'd.  Ten  minutes  later,  and  they  were  yafely 
closeted  in  the  vounir  ladv'.s  eozv  rofni. 

"  8it  down,  Aunt  Miriam,  and  take  olT  jour  sliawl.  You 
look  cold  and  wretched  and  half  starveil." 

Tho  woman  turned  her  iiollow  eyes  mournfully  uj^on  h'T. 
They  were  indeed  n  contrast — the  hriuht  virion  in  tho  roe  eilk 
di-eo.s,  the  ih;atint?  amber  curl.-;,  tlu;  milky  jx'arls,  the  foamy 
iaoe,  and  the  weird  woman  in  tho  wrerclicd  rn;x^%  with  siiiiktu 
cheeks  and  hollow,  s[)ee(ral  ewc. 

"■  r  am  cold  and  wretched  and  half  starved."  .she  taid,  in  a 
harsh  vcice — "  a  miseralde,  liamer's.^  outcast,  forsaken  of  (<o<l 
and  man.  !My  l)ed  is  is,  bundle  of  hhiiy  straw,  my  food  a  crust 
or  a  IjuHc,  Tuy  <j,u'ments  ra<,'.s  frua  the  .^utter.-^.  Aiif)  yet  I 
accept  my  fate,  since  vou  are  ri  li  a;id  well  and  hap])y. " 

"  My  nnor,  })oor  MiriamI  Ial  me  go  and  get  you  .some- 
thing to  e:'.t,  and  a  gla^s  of  wine  to  refresh  you.  It  is  ilread- 
ful  to  see  any  human  being  .so  destitute.'' 

[She  started  impetuously  up,  but  Jliriam  stretched  forth 
her  hanii  to  diitain  her,  her  (ierce  i  yes  llaming  up. 

*'  Xot  half  60  dreadful,  Mollic  Dat.e,  as  the  eating  tiie  bread 
or  drinking  the  cu]>  of  Carl  WairavenI  'No;  1  told  liim  be- 
fore, and  I  tell  you  now,  I  would  die  in  a  kennel,  like  a  stray 
ilo-jT,  befoi'o  r  would  aciicpt  help  from  him." 

"MiriamI" 

Miriam  made  an  impatient  gesture. 

"  Don't  let  us  talk  about  me.  J^et  us  talk  about  yourself. 
It  is  my  lirst  chiince  since  you  came  here,  ^'ou  are  well  and 
happy,  are  you  not?     You  look  b()tii.  " 

"  J  am  well  und  I  am  happy;  that  's,  as  happy  as  1  can  be, 
Ehroude  1  in  mystery.  Miriam,  1  hav(!  been  thinkitig  about 
myself.  I  have  learned  to  think,  of  laus  and  I  would  give  a 
year  of  my  life  to  kiu)W  who  I  am." 

"  What  do  you  want  to  know?"  ^riiiam  iisked,  gloomily. 

"  Who  I  am;  what  my  mime  may  be:  who  were  my  jmrenla 
— everyihing  that  1  ought  to  know." 

"  Why  do  you  s])eak  to  me  about  it?" 

"  lic(;ause  you  know,  J  am  certain;  becau.se  you  can  tell 
Hie,  if  you  will.     Tidl  me,  Miriam — teil  mel" 

She  ieuncd  forward,  her  rinji'cd  bauds  clasped^  her  blue  i^yea 


84 


THE    UKSEEN    BRIDEGROOM. 


lighted  and  eager,  her  pretty  I'acc  aglow.  But  Miiiam  drew 
back  with  a  frown. 

"  I  liuvf!  ii.nliin;,^  t(»  tell  you,  Mollie— nothing  that  would 
make  you  belt  ?r  or  happier  to  hear,  l^c  content  and  ask  ho 
questions.'' 

"  J  can't  be  content,  and  I  must  ask  questions!"  the  girl 
cried,  passioinitoly.  "  If  you  cared  fur  uie,  as  you  sfu  ru  lo, 
you  would  tell  nv  !  What  is  Mr.  Walraven  to  me?  Why  has 
he  broi'tj;nt  me  here?" 

"Ask  him." 

"  lie  woTi't  tell  me.     He  says  ho  took  a  fanov  to  me.  seeing 

me   play  '  Fanchon  '  at   K ,  atul    brought   me   here  and 

adopted  me.  A  \ery  likely  story!  ]S"o,  Miriam;  I  am  Billy 
enough.  Heaven  knows,  but  1  am  not  quite  so  silly  as  that. 
He  eauie  after  me  bi'causu  you  .sent  him,  and  because  I  have 
some  claim  on  him  he  dare  not  forego.  What  is  it,  Miriam? 
Am  I  his  daughter?" 

Miriam  sat  and  slared  at  her  a  moment  in  admiring  won- 
der, then  her  dark,  giiunt  face  relaxed  into  a  grim  smile. 

"Whit  a  sharp  little  witch  it  is!  Ifis  daughter,  indeed! 
What  do  you  think  about  it  yourself?  Does  the  voice  of  nat- 
ure speak  in  your  lilial  heart,  or  is  tho  resemblance  between 
you  so  strong?" 

Mollip  -dioi.k  her  sunny  curls. 

"  The  '  voice  of  nature  '  has  nothing  to  say  in  the  matter, 
and  I  am  no  m  >ie  like  ium  than  a  wliite  duck  is  like  u  mae- 
tiil.     But  it  might  he  .^o,  you  know,  for  all  liiat. " 

*'  1  know.  Would  it  make  you  any  haj)pier  to  know  you 
were  his  daughter?" 

"  J  don't  know,"  Paid  Mollio.  thoughtfully.  "  I  dare  say 
not.  For,  if  1  were  his  daughter  and  had  a  right  to  his  name, 
1  would  probably  bear  it.  and  bo  putilicly  ai'knowledged  as 
such  before  no(v;  and  if  J  am  his  ihiughter,  with  no  r^gbt  to 
his  name,  I  know  I  would  not  live  ten  minutes  under  the 
same  roof  with  him  after  finding  it  out," 

"  Sharp  little  Mollie!  Ask  no  (jueslions,  then,  and  Fll  toll 
you  no  lies.  Take  the  goods  the  gods  provide,  and  be  con- 
tent." 

"  But,  Miriam,  are  you  really  my  aunt?" 

"  Yes;  that  much  is  true." 

"  A:\d  your  name  is  Dane?" 

'-  It  is.^ 

"  And  my  mother  was  your  sister,  and  I  bear  my  mother'« 
name?" 

Tlie  dark,   weather-beaten   face   of    tli«  haggard   womaa 


THTi:    UNSEEK    BUTnEOROOM. 


85 


lighted  up  witli  a  fiery  glow,  and  into  oitlier  «yo   leaped  a 
devil. 

"  Moilio  Dane,  if  j-ou  ever  want  mo  to  spoak  to  yoii  again, 
nevor  breathe  tlie  name  of  your  imther.  Wiiatover  f-lie  did, 
and  whatever  she  was,  the  grave  has  closed  over  her,  nnd 
there  let  her  lie.  1  nrver  want  to  hear  her  name  this  side  of 
eternit}'." 

Mollie  looked  almost  frightened;  she  shrunk  away  with  a 
wistful  little  sigh. 

"  1  am  never  to  know,  then,  it  seems,  and  I  am  to  go  on 
through  life  a  cheat  and  a  lie.  It  is  very  hard.  lYople  have 
found  out  already  1  ani  .lOt  what  I  seem." 

''  irow?"  sharply. 

"  Why,  the  night  1  was  deluded  from  home,  it  Wiis  by  a 
letti'r  signed  '  Minan:,'  purporting  to  eomo  from  you,  sayijig 
you  were  dying,  and  tiiat  you  wanted  to  tell  me  all.  1  went, 
and  walked  straight  into  the  cunniugest  trap  that  ever  was 
set  for  a  poor  little  girl." 

"  You  have  no  idea  from  wlmin  lliat  letter  came?" 

"  Not  the  slightest.  1  am  pretty  sure,  though,  it  came 
from  my  husband." 

"  Your— what?" 

"  My  husband,  Miriam!  You  didn't  know  Miss  Dane  was 
a  respectable  married  woman,  did  you?  It's  true,  however. 
I've  been  mairied  over  a  month." 

There  was  no  doubting  the  face  with  which  it  was  said. 
Miriam  sat  staring,  utterly  confounded. 

"  rjood  heavens!     Married!     You  never  mean  it.  Mollie?" 

*'  1  do  mean  it.  It's  an  nccomf>lished  fact,  Mrs.  Miriam 
Dane,  and  there's  my  we.dding-ring. " 

She  held  up  her  left  hand.  Among  the  opals,  and  pearls, 
and  i)ale  em«Malds  flashing  there,  gleamed  a  little  circlet  of 
plain  gold — l^adge  .)f  woman'.<  servitinie. 

"  Married!"  Miriam  gasped,  in  indescribable  consternation. 
"  I  thought  you  worv  to  marry  Sir  Tiogi'r  Trajenmi?" 

*'  So  I  was — so  I  wo(dd  liiive,  if  I  liad  been  let  alone.  But 
that  letter  from  }ou  ciime — that  forgery,  you  know — and  I  was 
carried  off  ami  married,  willy-nilly,  to  somebody  else.  Who 
that  somebody  else  is,  I  don't  know." 

"You  don't  know?" 

"  Haven't  the  slightest  idea!  I've  a  good  mind  to  tell  you 
the  story.  I  haven't  fold  any  ot-n  yet,  and  the  weight  of  a 
.secret  a  month  old  is  getting  a  little  too  miieh  for  mo.  It 
would  bo  a  rtli«f  to  gft  some  one  idse  to  keep  it  for  mc,  and  1 
fancy  you  liould  keep  a  secret  as  well  as  any  one  else  I  know. '' 


86 


TIIC    LXPf'KX    DUiniXlROOM. 


niim  wi. 11,(1 
gr,VA>  star!.', 


"  I  '  un  kn'p  your  .-'lei-et,  Mollic.     Go  on." 

So  Mr!ly-  hi';.'..n  and  rt-liitod  llio  ronuuitic  story  of  Hint 
fortni^'lit  .-"ho  hui  pii?r;('il  away  Lrm  h  nuv. 

"  Airi  yo!i  ff'iiS'Mitcd  to  niurry  Ijiiur"  ^lliiaiu  c.\(-I;;iiii('d, 
whiT.  elu'  liiil  fTL't  lliiit  f:ir — "  yon  coiisonlcd  lo  Jiuirry  a  nr.\n 
totally  ur:kr:MV.  II  to  yrn,  *vhoso  lace  ViJii  had  not  evi'ii  si  ■.)■,. 
\vhc;-f  nani''  you  diil  not,  even  l^i'ow,  for  tlio  t-'akc  of  freed pni? 
^lollif,  vou'ie   nothing  but   a  midc-rablo   iiltlc  oor/ard,  nitor 

aii:*-' 

•'  r.rhaps  so,"  said  MoH'.o,  detinntly.  "  I^it  I  would  do  it 
again,  and  tn-jce  a.-!  niiuh,  for  freedom.  'I'jjink  of  boiiif; 
cooped  up  in  four  siitlinp;  wall^,  shut  in  from  the  blessed  snn- 
(■hine  and   fc.-.li  air  of  heaven.     I  teil  yon  that 

have  kept  me  there  until  now,  and  ]  .should  Inivi  ^  ,      

starin;.'  mad  in  half  thf  time.  Oh,  dear!"  cried  Moliie,  ini 
patiently,  "  I  wish  I  was  a  ;.rypi-'v,  free  arjd  h:ii)py,  to  waniicr 
about  all  day  lon;,^  iin_;iin_w  in  ihe  sntishino,  to  sleep  at  ni«:lit 
under  the  wavii:?,'  treta,  to  tell  fortune?,  and  wear  a  pretty 
searlet  cloak,  and  never  know,  when  I  got  up  in  tlu*  morniiig, 
where  I  would  lie  down  at  nipht.  It's  nothing  but  a  imiH- 
anoe,  and  a  tionbie,  nnd  a  bother,  being  rich,  and  die.s-ing 
for  dinner,  and  g'^mr  to  the  opera  and  two  or  three  parties  of 
a  night,  and  being  obligerl  to  talk  and  walk  and  eat  and  sleej) 
by  line  an^l  plummet.     1  hate  it  all  I" 

"You're  tired  of  it,  then?"  Miriam  asked,  with  a  curioui 
smile. 

••  Yes; 
as  other 

"  1  woHiiL-r  you  never  take  it   into  your 
upon  the  siage.     ^'"ii  lik  d  that  life?" 

"Liked  it:-'  Yrri:  and  f  will,  too,"  said  Mollic,  reeklessly, 
"some  day,  when  I'm  more  than  usually  aggravated.  Jt 
strikes  me.  however,  J  fii')uld  like  to  iind  out  my  huriband 
first." 

"  Finish  your  .storv.     ^'oii  nnvrried  thi.-!  masked  man?" 

"  Yes:  that  vciy  night,  about  midiught,  W(>  were  married. 
.Sarah  canu  to  me  early  in  the  evening,  ami  told  me  to  bf 
ready,  iha*.  the  elorgynuin  woidd  be  there,  and  that  1  was  to 
be  wedded  under  mv  Christian  mime,  Mary,  alone.  I  still 
wore  the  wedding-robes  in  which  1  was  to  have  been  made 
Lady  Tiajenna.  To  llieso  a  white  tilk  niabk,  completely  hid- 
ing ntv  fac",  wa.i  added,  and  I  w.i-^  kil  forth  by  my  njabkid 
brid(;^room  iritu  another  aiuitmenl .  and  ;  t<*()d  face  to  f;ice 
with  a  poitly,  revciend  gentleman  of  mo.t  clericid  aspect  and 
most  aiarmt'd  fuee.     i  tlumglit  he  had  a  familiar  look,  \nxt  in 


;;  just  now  I  am.     The  iii  will  jiass  away,  I  supjiose, 
similar  tits  have  jassed." 

head  to  "o  back 


THE    LXHIEX    T'.r.IDKGROOM. 


87 


llJUt 
!IC(1, 


till-  I- tiifuvimi  of  .such  a  luoiiiciif,  I  coulJ  ii'.it  fihioe  liim.  1. 
l:i!fi\v  him  iimv,  Uu)ii;^h — it  «'!is  tho  UiiVL'ivrul  Kiiynioml  ll,u\\- 
i.'i.^'i,  <tf  SL  l'iincri;s'.  Pvo  hi'ii/il  him  pveas.'h  dozt-us  of 
lime." 

"  ll'v.v  '  a,'ijo  hu  (.0  Ion]  himself  to  suili  :ui  ii-reguhir  pro- 
rot'dmLi;. 

"  By  I'niMO,  ;is  I  (liil.  Ili^  wad  curried  olT  in  much  Hjc  jhuio 
Lisliioi;,  and  ."^ivuo  1  p.-ctLv  marly  out  of  hi.i  \vit.s — murried  m 
to  y;ij!l  five— like  mu  again.  At  tho  conclusion  of  thu  ci.'io- 
iui;ny,  J  rcturiud  uit.h  .Sa/ah  to  tho  iiiner  ronm,  and  the 
licvereial  .Mr.  Jfudhlci;:!!  u'us  ^af  dv  taken  home." 

Thirf  was  a  piuiso.  iViollio  sat  luoking  witii  knitted  brows 
into  the  hrc 

"  Well?"  fjucationed  iMiriam,  sharply. 

"  1  stayed  there  a  week,"  went  on  Moilie,  hurriedly.  "  It 
was  part  of  the  comjiact,  and  if  he  wa-;  to  kei^p  lii«,  iind  liber- 
ate me,  I  wad  to  remain  (piietly  as  long  as  1  had  ]iiomiaed. 
]5ut  it  was  not  so  loni;  in  [jassiiii,'.  1  had  the  range  of  two  or 
three  rooms— all  with  earfsnlly  closed  Minds,  however— and  I 
liad  a  piano  and  plenty  of  books,  and  at^  much  of  JMiss  Sarah 
(irant's  society  as  I  chose.  There  was  nothing  to  be  got  out 
of  her,  however,  and  I  tried  hard  enough,  gooUuess  kuowa. 
Vou  might  as  well  wring  a  dry  yponge. " 

"  And  the  man  vou  marrii;d?" 

"  Oil,  ho  was  ilvre,  too— niT  and  on  every  day;  but  ho  kejtt 
mo  as  mui'li  In  ilie  dark  as  Sarah,  lie  ahvays  persisted  in 
speakinu"  l''reu(;h  to  iir,' — that  1  might  fail  to  n>cogHi/e  his 
\oice,  .1  (laie  sav;  and  lu;  spoke  it  as  llueiiily  as  a  Frem  liiiuui. 
J!ut  he  was  really  an  agr-'tdjlo  comitaiuon,  could  talk  about 
vything  I  liked  to  (alk  about,  could  })lay  tlie  piano  to  a 
Oiarm,  aiid  1  should  have  !il  '1  him  immensily  if  \w  had  not 
bi\>n  mv  husband,  and  if  h  "  had  not  worn  that  odious  mask. 
I);  you  know,  Miriam,''  llasliing  a  sudden  look  up.  "if  ha 
had  tak'M  oil'  that  mask,  and  showed  me  the  htvndsimie  facf^ 
of  one  of  my  rejected  suitors  I  did  not  absolutely  abhor,  f 
think  I  shouLl  have  con;^ent:'d  to  stay  with  him  alwa\s.  Ifo 
wa-j  so  luee  ti>  talk  to,  and  1  liked  his  bold  stroko  lor  u  wife — 
so  much  in  the  *  Dai'c-D'vil  l)iid<  '  .-(vie.  .15ut  i  wcudd  have 
been  torn  to  pieces  before  I'd  have  droi)ped  a  hint  to  tliafc 
olTect." 

"If  it  ha  1  l.een  Doctor  Oleander,  would  you  have  con- 
.sented  to  stay  with  liim  as  Ids  wife?" 

"  Doctor  OhMuder?  \o.  Didn't  I  say  if  it  were  some  one 
1  did  not  iibsolutely  abhor?  I  ab'-olidcly  and  utterly  and  alto- 
gBfchor  abhor  uiul  detest  Doctor  Oleunderl" 


88 


TlIK    UNSEEN    BKlDEfiUOOil. 


"  Wbut  ia  that?     Some  one  is  lisLoiiiiig. '' 

Miriam  hiul  started  in  alarm  to  her  fwf,;  Mollie  ix)se  uj» 
also,  and  btoixi  lu-iirkoniiig.  TIutu  !):t(l  bet  n  h  e(i|ipiea.r;t,U 
sound,  like  a  convulsive  sneeze,  ciit.-^idu  tlio  door,  MoUio 
flnng  it  wide  in  xii  instant.  Tho  hall  lam[)  pound  down  its 
subdued  light  all  along  Ihe  stately  corridor,  on  pictures  and 
btatuos  and  nabinets,  but  tio  living  thing  was  visible. 

"  There  is  no  one,"  said  Alitllie.  It  was  cats  or  rats,  or  tho 
rising  wind.     Every  one  in  the  house  is  aslrop. " 

She  closed  the  door  and  went  back  to  the  tire.  As  she  did 
so,  a  face  peeped  out  from  behind  a  great,  carved  Indian  cab- 
inet, not  far  from  tho  door — a  face  iighled  with  a  diabolical 
umile  uf  trium]>h. 


CIIAPTEU  XII. 


"  BI-ACK    MASK  "- 


-"  ^V^ITE    MASK." 


"  Finish  your  story!"  exclaimed  Miriam,  impatiently. 
"  Mori.ing  is  coming,  and  like  owls  and  t)ats  and  oiher  nox- 
ious creatures,  I  hide  Trom  tho  daylight.  How  did  you 
escape?" 

*'  I  didn't  escape,"  said  Mollie.  "  I  couldn't.  Tho  week 
expired — my  masked  husband  kept  his  word  and  sent  nie 
home." 

"  .S'Mt  you  I     Did  ho  not  fetch  von?" 

"  5io;  the  man  whu  drove  th  carriage — who,  with  the  girl 
Sarah,  witnessed  (he  cjarriage- -brongiit  me.  Sarah  bound 
IBS,  aitb«)ugh  there  was  no  occasion,  and  tho  man  led  mo 
«k-imn  aail  put  me  \n.  Sarah  accompanied  me,  and  I  was 
*br§Tea  to  the  very  Cicner  here.  They  let  me  out,  an. I,  before 
I  had  time  to  cuteh  my  b.-euiii,  were  oil"  and  away." 

"  Ani  that  is  all?"  said  Miriam,  wonleringlv. 

"  Ah!  I  shoui  I  think  it  was  enough.  It  sdum  Is  more  like 
a  chapter  out  of  the  '  Castle  of  Otranto,'  or  the  '  Jlysli'ries  o( 
Udolpho,'  than  an  incident  in  the  life  of  a  mml-rn  New  York 
belle.  For,  of  course,  you  know,  Miihimi!  Mn-iani,"  oondiid- 
ed  the  pretty  coquette,  tossing  back  airily  all  her  bright  curls, 
*'  1  am  a  belle — a  n  igning  bt-lle — the  bcuuty  of  the  sra>'on!" 

"  A  little  conceited,  goosey  girl — th;it's  what  you  are,  Mol- 
lie Dane,  whom  evoL  *ihij  '.eriible  event  can  not  make  serious 
and  sensible." 

"  Terrjt)le  event!  Now,  Miir.m.  I'm  not  so  sure  about 
tbilt.  if  1  liked  the  hero  of  the  anv't  nture — and  I  have  liked 
some  of  my  rejected  flirtees,  ])oor  follows! — I  should  admire 
his  pluck,  and  fall  straightway  in  love  witli  liini  for  his  ro- 


THE    UNSEEN    P,RIDEGEOOM. 


89 


'I' 


mantio  daring.  It  is  so  like  what  those  old  follows — knights 
anil  barons  and  things — usod  to  do,  you  know.  And  if  I 
didn't  like  him — if  it  were  Sardonyx  or  Olciindo'; — sure,  thore 
would  be  tho  fun  and  faiuo  of  having  my  name  in  all  the 
papers  in  the  country  as  the  heroine  of  tho  most  romantic  ad- 
venture of  modern  times.  I'liere  would  be  sensation  noveKs 
and  high-pressure  melodramas  mamifai'turcvl  out  of  it,  and  I 
would  llgure  in  the  Divorce  Court,  and  wake  up  some  day, 
like  Lord  J*.yron,  and  lind  mysidf  tamous. " 

Miriam  listened  to  this  rattle  with  a  face  of  infinite  con- 
tempt. 

"Silly  child  I  It  will  ruin  your  prospects  for  life.  Sir 
lloger  will  never  marry  you  now." 

"  No,"  said  Mollie,  composedly,  "  1  don't  think  he  will; 
for  tho  simple  reason  that  I  wouldn't  have  him." 

"  Wouldn't  have  him?     What  do  you  mean?" 

"  What  I  say,  auntie.  I  wouldn't  marry  him,  or  anybody 
else,  just  now.     I  meiin  to  find  out  who  is  my  husband  tirst. " 

"  Po  they  know  this  extraordinary  story?" 

Mollio  laughed. 

"  No,  poor  th-ings!  And  he  and  guardy  are  dying  by  inches 
of  curiosity,  (ruardy  has  coiujocted  a  story,  and  tel!:i  it  with 
his  blandest  air  to  everybody;  and  everybody  smiles,  and  bows, 
and  listens,  and  nobody  bfdieves  a  word  of  it.  And  that  odious 
Mrs.  Carl — there's  no  keeping  her  in  tho  dark.  IShe  has  the 
cunning  of  a  serporit,  that  wonnm.  She  has  an  inkling  of 
the  truth,  already." 

"  How?" 

"  Well.  Mv.  Kashleigh — the  clorgymtm.  you  know,  who  was 
alnlucted  to  marry  ut^ — was  at  a  diniior-party  this  very  day — 
or,  rather,  yesterday,  for  it's  two  in  the  morning  now — and  at 
diimer  he  related  his  whole  wonderful  adventure.  Of  course, 
he  didn't  see  my  face  or  know  nic;  but  ho  described  the  brido 
— '^mall,  slender,  with  a  profusion  of  golden  ringlets.  You 
.shoiili!  have  seen  Mrs.  Carl  look  across  the  table  at  me —you 
should  have  h  "ard  her  hiss  in  my  ear,  in  her  venomous,  ser- 
pent-liko  way:  '  I  think  I  know  where  you  spent  that  fort- 
night.' 1  couldn't  sleep  to-night  for  thinking  of  it,  and  that's 
iiow  1  camo  to  be  awake  so  late,  and  to  see  y')u  tr;>m  the  win- 
dow, f'tn  not  afraid  of  her;  but  J  know  she  means  me  mis- 
<  hi.'f,  if  .she  can." 

Miriam  gaz^'d  Ihouirhtfully  at  her.  She  looked  }i  very  help- 
lestf,  childish  little  creature,  sitting  thore — tho  youthful  face 
looking  out  of  that  sunshiny  elouil  of  curls. 


r40 


TIFF-:    rXREEN     T.I!  IDEO  ROOM. 


"  tSlio  is  yo!u-  (U:i;lly  enemy,  then,  MoUio.  Why  does  she 
dislike  you  l^o  much?" 

"  Because  T  dislike  her,  I  .siijijiose,  and  iihrsiv^  did,  iind  she 
knew  it.  Jt  is  ii  ciise  of  mutual  repuj  ^iou.  '\\'e  won;  eiieniica 
at  firfcit  siL'lit.  Then  ylie  is  jealous  of  riic — of  my  iuliueneo 
with  hor  hushaud.  I^he  is  jH'ovoked  thut  she  w\  not  fathmn 
i!ie  mystery  of  my  belongings,  and  she  thinks,  J  know,  i  am 
Wr.  Walriivcn'd  dau.irhter,  ,'<ii/j  rosi/;  and,  to  cu})  tlie  elimnx,  1 
ron'i^  marry  her  eoiisin,  Doctor  Oleander-." 

"  A  i)u  seem  to  dislike  Docl.or  OlcsindLT  very  mu;'h?" 

"  1  do,"  said  M;>llic.  iiiihily.  "  i 'd  uive  him  and  tin;  hand- 
some lilanche  a  do^re  cf  rftryclnn'ne  (  aeh,  with  all  tlie  jdea-'.ure 
in  life,  if  it  wasn't  a  hanginjf  nitittcr.  J  doJi't  ''are  about 
beinjij  luiufxod.  Jt'.s  liad  enough  Lo  bo  married  and  not  knovr 
who  your  inuiband  is.'' 

"  ir,  may  be  this  ]>oi-lor  Oleander." 

ilollie's  eyes  bla/.cd  up. 

"  If  it  is!" — she  eatiglit  her  breath  and  stojijr.Ml — "  if  it  is, 
Miriam,  I  vow  I  would  blow  his  l)r<iin3  out  first,  and  my  own 
afterward  I     No,  no,  nol     Siu-.h  a  horiible  thing  couldn't  l)el" 

"  Do  j'ou  know,  I^Iollie,''  sai.i  Miriam,  slowly,  '*  1  ihink 
yon  are  in  love?*' 

"  Ah!  do  you  really?  Well,,  Miriam,  you  used  to  .spao 
fortunes  for  a  living.  Look  into  my  palm  now,  and  tell  mo 
who  is  the  unha))py  man.'"' 

"■  Js  this  artist  you  speak  of  handsome  and  young?"' 

"  Handsome  smd  young,  and  tolerably  rich,  and  remarka'dy 
clever.     Is  it  lie?" 

"  1  think  it  is." 

MoUie  smiled  softly,  and  looked  i.ito  the  glowing  masi  of 
coals. 

"  You  forget  I  refused  him,  Miriam." 
"  l^ahl  a  girl's  cuprite.    If  you  discovered  he  was  your  mys- 
terious husband,  would  you   blow  out  his   brains   and  youi 


own 


•" 


"  \o,"  said  Mollii',  coolly.     "  T   would   much  rather  live 
with  Hugh  Ingelow  than  die  with  liim.     irandsomo  irugh!' 
Her  eyes  sjfteiu'd  and  <sfv\v  humid.     "  You  are  right,  Miritini. 
Yon  can  s])ae  foi-lunes,  1  see.     I  do  like  Hugh,  dearly.     Hut 
ho  is  not  the  man.'' 

"  "N'o?     Are  you  sure?" 

"  Quite  sure,     lie  is  too  chi/alrons,  for  one  thing,  to  forco 
a  lady's  inclination." 

"  i)on'L  (rust  any  of  thun.     Their  motto  io:  'AH  fair  in 


TTIK    I'NFF.EN     I'.IIIDEOKOOM. 


91 


lovol'  Ami  then,  you  know,  you  played  liim  a  very  bhabby 
triuk." 

"  I  knoNv  1  did." 

Mis^i  DiUio  Iiiii;^ht'd  al,  the  recollection. 

"  And  ho  suid  lie  would  not  foi-<.;nt." 

"  So  tliL'V  all  said.  That';^  why  I  fear  it  may  bo  one  of  the 
throe." 

"  And  it  ia  one  of  the  three;  and  you  aro  not  the  clever  f,'irl 
1  give  you  credit  to  be  if  you  can  not  find  it  out." 

■'How?" 

"  Aro  thoy  so  much  alike  in  heijiht,  and  gait,  and  manner 
of  s))rakin<,%  and  llfty  other  thiegs,  that  you  can't  identify 
him  in  npile  «>f  his  mask?" 

"  It  i.s  not  so  easy  to  recognize  -a  masked  man  when  ho  dis- 
guises him.-;elf  in  a  long  (doak  and  np'-aks  l-'rcnch  in  a  feigned 
voice.  Those  tluv'e  nu'.n  an*  very  niii'  li  of  a  luigli!,  ami  all 
arc  straight  and  slender.  I  tried  and  tried  again,  J  tell  you, 
dtiring  that,  last  week,  and  always  failed.  Sometimes  1 
thought  it  was  one,  and  Komelimes  anotlu^r. " 


"  1'ry  once  more,"  said  Miiiaiu,  pithily. 
"  How?" 


Are  ynu  afraid  of  this  ma  kevl  man?" 

"Afraid?  Certainly  not.  I  have  nothing  to  fear.  Did 
h'"'  n<:)t  k"ep  his  word  and  restore  mc  to  my  friendt*  at  the  ex- 
piration of  the  week?  You  xiiould  have  heard  him,  Miriam, 
at  that  last  interview — tlie  elxjuent,  earnest,  inipassioned  way 
in  whiel)  h(^  bid  me  good-bye.  I  declare,  I  felt  lem]itei'  f')r 
Jill  instant  to  say:  '  Look  here,  Mr.  Miisk;  if  you  love  me  like 
thai,  and  if  you're  absolutely  not  a  fright,  take  off  that  ugly, 
black  dealh'ri-head  you  wear,  and  I'll  stay  with  you  always, 
sinie  I  am  your  wife.'     IWit  I  didn't." 

"  You  would  not  fear  to  meet  him  again,  then?" 

'■  On  the  contrary,  I  should  like  it,  of  all  things.  There  is 
a  halo  of  ronjance  about  this  mystej-ious  husbaiivl  of  mine  that 
reiuhMN  him  intensely  interesting.  (lirls  love  n^mance  dearly; 
and  I'm  only  a  girl,  you  know." 

"  And  the  silliest  girl  I  ever  did  know,"  suM  !\Iiiiam.  "  I 
believe  you're  more  tlian  half  in  l.»vu  with  f!ii>  man  iu  the 
mask;  and  if  it  turns  out  to  be  the  artist,  )'oii  will  plumii  into 
his  arms,  iorever  and  aUvays." 

"  1  shouldn't  wondir  in  the  least,"  res])onded  the  young 
lady,  coolly.  "  I  ruser  kiu'w  how  much  I  liked  [)Oor  dear 
Hugh  until  T  gave  hiui  his  iDinji.  \W^  .so  Aery,  very,  very 
handsouie,  }(iu  see,  Miriam;  and  1  adore  beauty." 

"  Very  well.     Find  out  if  it'a  he — and  liud  out  ut  onoe." 


92 


THE    UNSEEN    TUtlDEOROOM. 


"  More  easily  S:iid  than  done,  isn't  it?" 

"  Kot  at  all.     You  don't  euppose  ho  bus  left  the  city?*' 

"  No.  lie  tol-1  me  that  ho  would  not  leuvt! — that  h«  would 
reuifti!!  and  vviiteh  mo,  unscon  and  iinknmvn." 

"  Tlieii,  if  you  adverLlsc — if  you  address  him  through  tha 
medium  of  the  daily  j):i])er8 — he  will  sue  and  answer  your  ad- 
vertit-emont. " 

"  ViTY  probably,  liut  he  isn't  goin^  to  toll  me  who  hn  is. 
If  he  had  any  intention  of  doing  so,  he  would  have  done  it  lust 
week." 

Miriam  shook  her  head. 

"  I'm  not  so  sure  about  tluit.  You  never  iiskod  him  to  re- 
veal himself.  You  gave  him  no  reason  to  8U[)pose  you  would 
do  otherwise  tlian  Hcorn  and  flout  him,  lot  liim  b(!  who  ho 
might.  It  is  ditl'erent  now.  If  it  is  Hugh  Ingelow,  you  will 
forgive  him  ail?" 

"  Miriam,  see  hero:  why  arc  you  so  anxious  I  should  forgive 
this  man?" 

"  Because  I  want  to  see  you  some  respectable  mair.s  wife; 
because  I  want  to  see  you  safely  settled  in  \\U\  ai;d  n"  longer 
left  to  your  own  caprices,  or  thot^e  of  C!arl  Walravcn.  If  you 
love  this  Hugh  Ingelow,  ami  nuirry  him,  you  may  j)robably 
beonme  a  rational  being  and  a  sensible  nuitron  yet." 

Mollie  made  a  wry  face. 

"  The  last  thing  I  over  want  to  be.  And  I  don't  beliovo 
half  a  dozen  husbands  would  over  transform  me  into  a  '  sensi- 
ble matron.'  But  go  on,  all  the  name.  I'm  open  to  sugges- 
tion.    What  do  you  want  me  to  do?" 

"  AddiOHS  this  num.  Ask  him  to  appoint  a  mooting.  Meet 
him.  Tell  him  what  you  have  toM  nn',  and  iiiak(;  him  reveal 
himself.  He  will  be  sure  to  do  it,  if  he  thinks  there  are 
grounds  for  hope." 

"  And  if  it  turns  out  to  be  Snrdnnyx  or  Oleander — and  1 
have  a  prcsontimunt  that  it's  thi;  latter — what  then?" 

"  '  Siilllriont  unto  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof.*  I  don't  l)e- 
lievo  it  is  either.  From  what  you  toll  mo.  of  thorn,  1  am  sure 
neilhor  would  behave  so  honorably  at  the  last — keeping  his 
promi><e  aiul  fetching  y^u  home." 

"There  is  somcthuig  in  that,"  said  Mollie,  thoufrhtfully. 
"  Units-,  in  Iced,  tin  y  grow  tired  (»f  me,  or  were  afraid  to  im- 
prison me  longor.  And  my  masked  husband  talked,  at  the 
j)arting,  as  neither  of  these  reptiles  coidd  talk.  It  may  bo 
eorae  one  of  whom  I  hnvo  never  thought — who  knows?  I've 
had  such  a  rpuintity  of  lovers  that  1  couldn't  p'ossibly  kee])  thf- 


THE    UNSEEN    rRIDEOltOOM. 


93 


aumn. 


ruu  of  thom.     irowovor,  as  I'm  dying  to  meet  biiu 
whoever  ho  is,  I'll  tuko  y  ur  uJ.iuo  r.ml  addri'Ba  him." 

Miriam  ium-. 

*'  That  is  well.  And  now  1  mmt  be  gnipg.  It  is  \y&iA 
throo,  and  New  York  streets  will  presoiitly  bo  lutir.  I  have 
ii  Ion;;  w;iy  to  '^o,  anil  no  winh  to  hv.  seen." 

"Miriam,  stop.  Can't  I  tlo  anythinfr  to  assist  you?  Yoa 
are  half  atarvrd,  I  know:  and  no  miserably  clad.  Do— do  lot 
mo  aid  yon?" 

"  Novcr!"  the  woman  cried,  "  whilo  yon  are  boneatli  thii 
roof.  If  ever  you  selLlo  down  in  a  house  of  your  own,  and 
your  hinbanil  jiormit-i  you  to  aid  so  (ii.sreputable  a  bcMU^'  as  I 
am,  I  may  iiaten  to  you.  All  you  have  now  beIotifr><  to  Carl 
Walraven;  and  to  olTer  mo  a  farthinf^  of  Carl  Walraven's 
money  id  to  olYor  me  the  deadlioKt  of  insults." 

"  How  you  hate  him  I  how  he  must  have  wron<;od  you  I" 
Again  th'it  burning  blaze  leaped  into  the  woman's  haggard 
eyes. 

"  Ay,  girl!  hate  and  wrong  are  words  too  poor  and  weak  to 
express  it.  15ut  I  bide  my  time — and  it  will  surely  come — 
when  I  will  have  my  revenifo. " 

She  opened  the  door  and  ])aRsed  out  swiftly.  The  listener 
at  the  key-hole  barely  escaped  behind  the  cabinet — no  more. 

Mollie,  in  her  rosy  silken  robes,  like  a  little  goiUkvd  Aurora, 
followed  her  out,  down  the  stair.s,  and  opened  for  her  the 
house  door. 

The  first  little  pink  clouds  of  the  coming  morn  were  blush- 
ing in  the  east,  and  the  rag-women,  with  their  bags  and  hooks, 
were  already  a.^tir. 

"  When  shall  I  see  you  again?"  Mollie  said. 

Miriim  turned  ami  looked  at  her,  half  wonderingly. 

"  Do  you  really  wish  to  see  me  again,  iloliie — such  a 
wretclied-looki'.ik  being  as  I  am?" 

"  Are  you  not  luy  aunt?"  Mollie  cried,  passionately. 
"  How  do  ]  kn  >\v  ih  re  is  another  being  on  this  earth  in  whose 
reins  How  the  si;m';  blood  as  mine?  And  you — you  love  me,  I 
think." 

"  Heaven  knows  I  do,  Mollie  DancI" 

"  Then  why  wrong  me  by  such  a  question?     Come  again, 
and  again;  ami  come  soon.     I  will  b- 
And  now,  farewell!" 

She  held  out  her  little  white  hand, 
had  ])arted. 

The  young  girl  went  slowly  back  to  her  room  to  disrobo  mJ 


on  the  watch  for  you. 
A  moment,  and  they 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


// 


// 


f/. 


y 
^ 


1.0 

l^m    |2.5 
■^  1^    III  2.2 

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23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  145B0 

(716)  872-4503 


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94 


TIIK    UNSF.F.X    HUIDlXJKOOif. 


U(>  ilowii,  au',1  tho  htiggiinl  wduhui  liilLcd  nijtidiy  1i\)(n  .street  to 
fiiroct,  uii  hor  \v';iy  L'j  i.he  droiviy  loJgingd  slio  ciillcil  homi.'. 

'Pwo  <lii,Y:?  sifLor,  viiiiiiing  Ikt  cyos  j^ruodily  over  the  innrning 
]i.il)cr,  Miriiim  retul,  hoiuliug  thu  list  of  "  iVrsoiuils:" 

"  l'>i,A(  K  ^Mask. — I  vv'sli  to  SCO  you  8:)on,  and  uloiie.  'I'licro 
is  no  docfj)tioii  Die.uit.  Appoint  tini-j  an  I  pl.ice,  an  I  1  will 
meet  you,  Wijitf,  Mask." 

"  So,"  said  the  woman  to  heraolf,  "  shi;  ji;'-;  kc|it  h.-r  woi'd„ 
l?i!ivo  littlo  Mollii'!  OhI  that  if.  ui.iy  bo  llu  man  kIu'  lovca! 
1  sliouid  bo  almost  ha])pv,  1  think,  to  seo  lu-r  hiijipv — Mary's 
child:" 

Miriam  waited  impatiently  for  the  response.  In  two  dayi 
it  came: 

"  AViUTK  Mark. — To-morrow,  Friday  ni;,dit,  ten  o'clock. 
Corner  Fourteenth  {Street  and  liroadway.      JJlack  Mask." 

"  1,  too,  will  be  there,"  said  Miriam.  "  It  can  do  no 
harm;  it  may,  |X)3sibly,  do  some  good." 


ClIAPTEIl   XIJI. 

MRS.    CAUL    UAI.I'AVKX'.S    l.lTTl.K   GAME- 

MvsTKRious  Miriam,  in  her  dismal  garret  lodjjfing,  waa  not 
the  only  person  who  read,  and  intelligently  comprehended, 
tiie.so  two  very  singular  advertisements. 

or  all  tho  hund roils  who  may  have  perused  and  wondered 
nvv!r  them,  ])robal)ly  there  wore  but  four  vvlio  understood  in 
tho  least  v.'hat  was  nx'.'ant — tho  two  most  interested,  and 
Miriam  and  M;--.  Walraven. 

Stay!  There  was  thu  Kevereiul  Raymond  Kashieigh,  vho 
miidit  have  soon  his  wav  through,  haJ  he  chanced  to  read  tho 
"  I'ersonal  "  column  of  the  pa()er. 

Oil  the  Thursday  morning  that  this  last  advertisement  ap- 
pearcH.1,  Mis.  Carl  Wahaven  sat  alone  in  the  pretty  boudoir 
sacred  to  hor  ])rivaoy.  It  was  her  c!;'iico  to  breakfast  alone 
sometimes,  oi  ili^halillc.  It  had  been  her  choice  on  this  ])ui- 
ticular  day. 

At  hor  elbow  stood  the  tiny  round  table,  with  its  ex(|uisite 
appointments  of  glass,  and  porcelain,  and  sdver;  its  chocolate, 
its  toast,  its  eggs,  its  little  broih'd  bird. 

Mrs.  Walraven  was  of  the  luxurious  sort,  as  your  full- 
blown, high-blooded  Cleopatras  are  likely  to  bt;,  and  did 
ample  justice  to  tlio  exquisite  cuinmc  of  the  Walraven  man- 
sion. 


THK    UNSKEK     l;l;II)K(iUOO.\!. 


ns 


Lying  back  graeofnlly,  her  linmlsome  moniiiig  robe  falling 
Joos(!ly  iiroinid  her,  hor  .'■•up''rb  blu-k  hair  twisted  away  in  u 
carchiris,  Heipent-irii'  coil,  hir  faco  fresh  and  blooniin;^^  "  ji^ 
j)i:a(!o  with  tho  world  and  all  therein,''  my  lady  JUiinciio 
digested  lu-r  breakfast  and  leiii-urely  skimmeil  the  morning 
paper. 

rSho  always  liked  the  "Personals."  To-day  they  had  a 
double  interest  for  her.  She  reail  again  and  again — a  doxen 
timi'H,  at  least — that  particular  "  Personal  "  ajipointing  the 
meeting  at  Fourteenth  Street,  and  a  lazy  smile  canio  over  her 
tro])ical  face  at  last  a.i  b:he  laid  it  down. 

"iS'iithing  could  be  better,"  mused  Mrs.  Walraven,  with 
that  inilolcnt  smile  shining  in  her  lazy,  wicked  black  eyes. 
*' The  little  fool  bets  her  trap,  and  walks  into  it  herself,  liko 
the  inconceivable  i.liot  t;he  is.  It  reminds  ojie  of  the  ostriih, 
this  advertisement — pretty  Mollie  buries  her  head  in  the  sand, 
and  fancies  no  one  sees  her.  Now,  if  (!iiy  only  ]/lays  his  part 
— and  I  think  he  will,  for  he's  absurdly  and  ridiculously  in 
love  with  the  fair-haired  tom-bov — she  will  be  caught  in  the 
nicest  trap  ever  silly  s-'ventcn  v/alked  into.  She  was  caged 
once,  and  got  free.  She  will  fnid  herself  caged  again,  and  not 
got  free,  i  shall  have  my  revenge,  and  Guy  will  have  Ills  m- 
am^rata.     I'll  send  for  him  at  once." 

Mrs.  Walravon  rose,  soug'.it  out  her  blotting-book,  took  a 
sheet  of  paper  and  an  envelojjo,  and  scrawled  two  or  three 
words  to  her  cousin: 

"  DKAit  Gi'Y, — Come  to  me  at  once.  I  wish  to  seo  you 
most  i)artieularl\'.     Don't  lose  a  moment. 

"  Very  truly, 

"  Blanche." 


Ringing  the  bell,  Mrs.  Walr;  ven  dis^)atcli d  this  little  mis- 
eive,  and  then,  re(;lining  easily  in  the  downy  dejiths  of  her  violet 
whot/dufeiiil,  she  fell  into  a  reverie  that  la4ed  for  upward 
of  an  hour.  With  sleepy,  fdow,  h:dt-e!osed  eyes,  the  wicked 
ftnile  just  curving  the  ripe-red  niwuth,  Mnie.  J^huuihe  wan- 
dered in  the  land  of  meditation,  and  had  her  little  ))lot  all  cut 
nnd  dry  as  the  toy  Swiss  deck  on  the  low  mantel  struck  up  a 
lively  waltz  jwcparatory  to  strikiii"  "leven.  J'ire  the  last  sil- 
very chime  had  (ieased  vibrati?ig,  the  door  of  tho  boudoir 
opened  anil  Dr.  Guy  OhaMler  Widked  in. 

"Good-morning,  Mr.;.  Walrascn,"  said  the  toxicologist, 
briskly.     "  You  sent  for  me.     What's  tho  matter?" 

lie  took  oil  hia  'all  hut,  Bet  it  on  a  sofa,  throw  his  gloves 


9(5 


THE     JNSEEX    HRTDEOROOM. 


into  it,  and  indulged  in  a  prolonged  professional  stare  at  hi« 
fail"  relative. 

"  Kothing  very  serious,  I  imagine.  You're  the  picture  of 
handsome  health,  iioally,  Hlaiicho,  the  Walraven  air  seema 
to  agree  with  yon.  You  grow  freshet,  and  brighter,  and 
plumper,  and  bolter-lookijig  every  day." 

"  1  diiln't  send  for  you  to  pay  compliments,  Doctor  Olean- 
der," said  Mrs.  Walraven,  Ruiiling  graciously,  ail  the  same. 
'  See  it  that  door  is  shut  fadt,  please,  and  come  and  sit  hero 
beside  me.     I've  soniethitig  very  serious  to  say  to  you." 

Dr.  Oleander  did  as  directed,  and  took  a  seat  beside  tho 
lady. 

"  Your  husband  won't  happen  in,  will  he,  Blanche?  lie- 
cause  he  might  be  jealous,  you  know,  at  this  close  proximity; 
and  your  black-a-vised  men  of  unknown  antecedents  are 
generally  tho  very  dickens  when  they  fail  a  prey  to  the  green- 
eyed  monster." 

"  Pshaw!  are  you  not  my  cousin  and  my  medical  adviser? 
Don't  bo  absurd,  Guy.  Mr.  Walraven  troubles  himself  very 
little  about  me,  one  uay  or  other.  I  might  hold  a  levee  of 
my  gentk-men  friends  here,  week  in  and  week  out,  for  all  be 
would  know  or  care." 

"Ah!  po8t-nu[)tial  bliss.  1  thought  marriage,  in  his  case, 
would  be  a  safe  atitidote  for  love.  All  right,  lilanche.  Push 
ahead.  What's  your  business'-*  Time  is  precious  this  morn- 
ing. Hosts  of  patients  on  hand,  and  an  interesting  case  of 
lej)ro8y  up  at  Bellevue." 

"  I  don't  want  to  know  your  medical  horrors,"  said  Mrs. 
Walraven,  with  a  shudder  of  disgust;  "  and  I  think  you  will 
throw  over  your  patients  when  you  hear  tho  subject  1  want  to 
talk  about.     That  subject  is— Mollie  Dane!" 

"  Mollie!"  The  doctor  was  absorbed  and  vividly  interested 
all  at;  once.     "  What  of  Moliio  Dane?" 

"  This,"  lowering  her  voice:  "  1  have  found  out  the  grand 
secret.     1  know  whore  that  mysterious  fortnight  was  spent." 

"Blanche I"  He  leaned  forward,  almost  breathless. 
"  Have  you?     Where?" 

"  You'd  never  guess.  It  sounds  too  romantic — too  incred- 
ible—for belief.  Even  the  hackneyed  truism,  '  Truth  is 
istranger  than  liction,'  will  hard'y  suttice  to  conquer  one's 
astonishment — yet  true  it  is.  Do  you  recollect  the  Reverend 
Mr.  Rashleigli's  story  at  tho  dinner-party,  the  other  day — 
tluiu  iniu-edible  tale  of  his  abduction  and  the  mysterious  mar- 
liago  of  tho  two  masks?" 

'*  I  recollect — yes." 


1 


THE    UNSEEN    BKIDEOROOM. 


•7 


*'  He  spoko  of  the  bride,  you  remember — described  her  aa 
Bnaall  and  slender,  with  a  profuiiou  oi  fair,  curling  hair." 

"  Yes— yo8 — yes!" 

"Guy,*'  fixing  her  powerful  blank  eyes  on  his  face,  "do 
you  need  to  be  told  who  that  masked  bride  was?" 

"  Mollie  Dane!"  cried  the  doctor,  impetuously. 

"  Mollie  Dane,"  said  Mrs.  Walraven,  calmly. 

"  By  Jovel" 

Dr.  Oleander  sat  for  a  instant  perfectly  aghast. 

"  I  only  wonder  it  did  not  strike  you  at  the  time.  It 
struck  mo,  and  I  whispered  mv  sut-picion  in  lier  ear  as  wo 
pjiaaed  into  the  drawing-room.  Jiut  ehe  is  a  perfect  actress. 
^Neither  start  nor  look  betrayed  her.  She  stared  at  nie  with 
those  insolent  blue  eyes  of  hers,  as  though  she  could  not  pos- 
sibly comprehend.*' 

"  Perhaps  she  could  not." 

Mrs.  Walraven  looked  at  him  with  a  quiet  smile — the  smile 
of  conscious  triumph. 

"  She  is  the  cleverest  actress  1  ever  saw  off  the  stapo — so 
clover  that  I  am  sometimes  incliiu'd  to  suspeo'^  she  may  have 
been  once  on  it.  No,  my  dear  (iuy,  she  undersioml  perfectly 
well.  Mollie  Dane  was  the  extraordinary  bride  Mr.  liash- 
leigh  married  that  extraordinary  night." 

"  And  who  the  devil,"  cried  Dr.  (Jiiy,  using  powerful  lan- 
guage in  his  excitement,  "  was  the  biniegroom?" 

"Ahl"  said  Blanche,- "  there's  the  rub!  Mr.  Kashlcigh 
doesn't  know,  and  I  don't  know,  uud  Mollie  doesn't  know, 
herself." 

"  What!" 

"  My  dear  Doctor  Oleander,  yaur  eyes  will  start  from  your 
head  if  you  stare  after  that  fashion.  No;  Mollie  doe.-iu't 
know.  Bhe  is  married;  but  to  whom  she  lias  no  more  idea 
than  you  have.     Does  it  not  sound  irjcrtHlible'r"' 

"  Sound?    It  is  iriorcdible — impossible — absurd!" 

"  Precisely.     It  is  an  accomplished  fa^t,  all  the  game.'* 

"Blanche,  for  Heaven's  sake,  explainl"  exclaimed  the 
young  man,  impatiently.  "  What  the  foul  fiend  do  you 
nean?  I  never  heard  such  a  cock-and-bull  story  in  all  my 
life!" 

"Nor  I.  But  it  is  true,  neverthe'ess.  Listen:  On  tho 
night  following  the  dinner-party  I  did  tho  meanest  action  of 
my  life.  I  played  eavesdropper.  1  listened  at  MoUie's  door. 
All  for  your  sake,  my  dear  Guy." 

"  Yes?"  said  Guy,  with  an  mcnnlulous  smile. 

"  X  listened,"  pursued  Mrs.  Blanche,  "  and  1  overheard  the 


98 


THE     L'NSKEN    r.lUI)K<51iOOM, 


Btimij^^est  confession  over  m;i(](!,  I  heliivo — iMollio  Dane  rolufc- 
iiig  tho  ail  venture's  of  tlinL  liiiiiion  forlnijjjht,  at  midnight,  to 
thill;  oiiigiihu'  crciiture,  Miriam." 

''Miriiuii:     Wlio  isaho?" 

'  Oiil  yoii  rcmiimbor — tlio  woman  who  tried  to  stop  my 
marriage.  MoUio  quieted  heron  lliat  oeasion,  und  they  iiud 
a  private  talk." 

"  Yes,  yeyl  J  remctubor.  Co  on.  How  did  Miriam  come 
to  be  with  MoiJie,  ui.-.d  wiio  Ihe  misehii'f  is  Miriam?" 

"Her  aunt. '^ 

"ileraunt?" 

"  ller  motlier's  sister — yes.  Her  motlier's  name  was  Dane. 
Who  that  mother  was,"  said  Mrs.  Walra\eii,  with  s])iteful 
emj^hasiiv  "  1  fancy  Mr.  Wahaven  could  tell  you." 

"Ahl"  said  her  cousin,  wilh  a  siilelong  glance,  "1 
Bhoulilii't  wonder.     I'll  not  ask  him,  however.     Proceed." 

"  I  took  to  reading  a  novel  after  1  came  liomc;"  jjroceeded 
Mrs.  Walravon,  "and  my  husband  went  to  bed.  I  ruiuiined 
Willi  my  book  in  the  drawing-room,  very  mudi  interested, 
until  nearly  midnight.  1  fancied  all  in  the  hou.e  had  retired; 
therefore,  when  1  hrard  a  soft  rustling  of  silk  swishing  jjast 
the  drawing-ro(jm  door,  J  was  considerably  surprised.  An 
instant  later,  and  tiie  house  door  v»as  softly  unfastened.  1 
turned  the  handle  noiselessly  and  peeped  out.  There,  in  her 
pink  dinner  toilet,  jewels  and  all,  was  Miss  Dane,  stealing 
upstairs,  and  following  her,  tliis  wretched,  ngged  creaturw, 
Miriam." 

"Well?"  said  the  doctor. 

"  Well,  I  followed.  They  entered  Miss  Dane's  chamber 
»nd  closed  the  door.  The  temptation  was  strong,  the  spirit 
willing,  and  the  llesh  weak.  I  crouclicd  at  the  key-hole  and 
listened.  It  was  a  very  long  conversation — it  was  fully  three 
o'clock  before  Miriam  departed — but  it  held  me  spell-bound 
with  its  interest  from  begimnng  to  end.  0/ioe  I  was  nearly 
caught — I  sneezed.  I  vanished  behind  a  big  cabinet,  and  just 
saved  myself,  for  they  opened  the  door.  Mollie  set  it  down 
ito  the  wind,  or  the  rats,  closed  the  door  again,  and  my  curi- 
osity overconung  my  fear  of  detection,  I  cre]»t  back  and  lieard 
every  word." 

"  Well?"  again  said  the  doctor. 

"  Well,  Mollie  made  a  clean  breast  of  it.  On  her  wedding- 
night  she  was  enticed  from  the  house  by  a  letter  parporiing 
to  como  from  this  Miriam.  'J'he  letter  told  lier  that  Miriam 
was  dying,  and  that  she  wiohtd  to  make  a  revelation  of  her 
parentage  to  Mollie,  before  «he  departed  for  a  worse  laud.     U 


THE     IKSKKN     i'.KIDKOROOM. 


99 


seems  slio  knows  Mi^s  Itiiiiu's  aiiLoccilont.-',  aiul  Mi«3  Dauft 
(loesii'r,.  Moliio  went  ut  ome,  as  thu  UovcicikI  lJit\mona 
liiislilciij,'!!  (lid,  ami,  Jiko  him,  wan  blimlfuldeil  uiul  brminl, 
borne  away  to  soiiu*  unknown  houses,  imhtidy  knows  where, 
waited  on  by  the  j^'irl  who  carried  tins  letter,  aJid  held  a  fast 
|)risonor  by  a  uian  in  a  l)la(;k  mas'li.  Thiit  man's  faeu  Mullio 
never  s^a^v,  nor  has  .she  the  least  idea  ol  whom  it  may  be.  »Sho 
id  inclined  to  suspeet  von." 

"  Mel-" 

'J'he  doffor's  stare  of  asfconidliment  was  a  .si^jit  to  behold. 

"  It  is  yon,  or  Sardonyx,  (.r  In.L'elow — one  of  you  three^ 
Mollie  •  cerlaiji.  The  i)arll(!ular  ono  she  can't  decide.  Sha 
dreads  i  m;iy  be  either  the  law}i.^r  or  the  doctor,  and  hopeSj 
with  all  i.  r  heart,  it  may  lie  the  artist." 

J)r.  Oleander's  Kwartliy  brows  knit  with  a  midnifrht  scowl. 

"  She  is  in  love  wiih  this  piipl»y,  Ingelow.  I  have  thought 
Hs  mne'i  for  some  time." 

*'  iiopelessly  in  love  with  him,  and  perfectly  willing  to  bo 
his  svifo,  if  he  proves  to  bo  Ikt  husband.  Should  it  chance  to 
Ix!  yon,  nhe  will  administer  a  dose  of  stryclmino  tho  lirst  avail- 
Able  opportunitv. " 

"She^aid  that,  did  slio?" 

"  That,  and  much  more.  She  hiites,  detests,  and  ubhond 
you,  anil  loves  tho  handsoiuc  artist  with  all  her  heart.  " 

"  Tl;e  little  jade!     And  how  about  her  elderly  adnn'rer?" 

"  Sir  Roger?  Oh!  he  is  to  get  the  go-by,  '  Men  havii 
died,  and  worms  have  eaten  them,  but  not  fur  love.'  He  will 
stand  (he  blow.  '  All  for  love,  and  the  world  \';ell  lost,'  is  to 
b'j  her  motto  for  the  fuinre.  She  is  in  love  wilh  Ifngh,  and 
Hugh  slie  niust  have.  Tliti  spoiled  baby  is  tired  of  all  its  old 
toys,  and  wants  a  new  (Mie." 

"  And  she  married  this  masked  man,  and  never  saw  liim? 
That  is  odd." 

"  The  whole  all'air  is  excessively  odd.  Yon  know  how  im- 
patient she  naturally  is.  She  grew  desperate  in  her  conllne- 
ment  in  a  few  days,  and  was  ready  to  sell  her  birthright  for  r. 
mess  of  pottage — ready  to  i-iain'iliee  lu-r  freedom  in  one  way  fo* 
'her  freedom  in  another.  She  had  the  man's  promise  that  Iw 
would  return  her  to  her  friends  a  week  after  she  became  Im 
wife.     She  married  him,  and  he  kept  his  promise." 

*'  And  he  never  let  hir  see  his  face?" 

"  Never!  and  she  can  not  even  t-iispect  who  it  is.  He  wora 
a  long,  disguising  cloak  that  coneealed  his  iiguro,  fals;-  beard 
and  hair,  and  8})oko  only  Freucli.  Uut  sh«  hopes  it  may  be 
lli'gh  Ingelow.     Whut  do  you  think?" 


100 


TUE    LNS];j;^    i;iiiJ)KUUooM. 


"  That  is  not  Hugh  Ingelow.     The  fellow  hasn't  energy 
euougli  to  ontrai)  a  ily. " 
*  Sanlonyx,  iht'ii?" 

"  Sanloiiyx  is  too  cautious.  lie  knowa  too  much  of  the  law 
to  run  !iis  heail  into  tlio  lion's  jaws.  J'esiilos,  it  is  too  abinirdly 
romaiitii:  for  so  jxadiLal  a  man.     No,  it  is  not  Sardonyx." 

"  Yourself,  thin?" 

The  dortor  Imi^'hed. 

*'  Nonsense,  Ijiaiiche!  Mollie  is  out  of  her  recknniii>^'  about 
us  three.  Hy  the  bye,  I  sec  now  tliroiigii  those  (jiioer  adver- 
tisements lliat  have  appeared  in  the  '  lleiaM  '  of  late.  Jilaok 
Mask -White  Mask. '^ 

"  Ye.s;  Mollie  wants  tc  find  out  whom  she  has  espoused. 
By  Miriani's  advice,  she  inserted  that  tirst  sklvertisement  to 
131aok  Mask.   He,  as  you  perceive,  refdies  in  to-day's  edition.'* 

"  And  she  is  to  meet  him  to-morrow  night." 

"  Exactly;  and  will,  unless  you  forestall  him." 

"  JIovv?" 

*'  Don't  bo  stupid,  pray.  What  is  to  hinder  you  from  being 
at  the  place  of  rendezvous  first  siud  playing  Black  Mask?'^ 

"  I  beg  your  pardon;  1  am  stupid  still.  Jilack  Mask  will 
be  there  iiimself." 

"  Look  here:  ten  is  the  hour.  Toward  evening  I  wiil  ad- 
vance every  time-piece  in  the  house,  Moilie's  watch  included, 
half  an  hour.  Hha  will  bo  at  the  place  of  tryst  ut  half  past 
nine.  Bo  you  there,  likewise — cloaked,  bearded,  bewigged. 
Have  a  carriage  in  waiting.  Make  her  think  you  are  Hugh 
Ingelow,  and  she  will  enter  it  without  hesitation.  tS])eak 
French.  She  will  not  recognize  your  voice.  Onco  in  the  car- 
riage, carry  her  oti. " 

"  Where?"  asked  the  doctor,  astonished  at  the  rapidity  of 
all  this. 

"  To  Long  Island — to  the  farm.  She  will  bo  as  safe  there 
as  in  Sing  Snig.  Make  her  think  you  are  her  unknown  hus- 
band. It  will  be  easily  done,  for  she  half  thinks  it  now. 
Only — look  out  for  the  strychnine!" 

The  doctor  rose  to  his  feet,  his  sallov/  face  flushed,  his  small 
black  eyes  8p:irkling. 

"  By  Jovel  Blanche,  what  a  plotter  you  are!  I'll  Co  it,  as 
sure  as  my  name's  Guy.  1  love  the  little  witch  to  madness, 
»n\  I  owe  her  one  for  the  way  she  jilted  me.  I'll  do  it,  by 
thunder!" 

"  Very  well,"  seid  Mrs.  Walraven,  quietly.  "  Don't  gei 
exoibed,  and  don't  make  a  noise.     I  knew  you  would. ** 

'*  But  what  will  the  old  lady  say?" 


THE    TNSKKN    BRIPEOnOOM. 


IOj 


>» 


I 


**  Who  cares  for  tho  old  ladv?"  retorted  Mmo.  Blanche, 
tontt'iuptuotisly.  "  Not  you,  1  li  'pe.  Tell  h«r  it's  an  iiisano 
patient  you  havi!  brought  to  her  f  h-  quiet  and  sea  air.  Judy 
IB  a  rej^ular  dragon,  and  the  old  vvornan  in  as  keen  as  a  ferret 
and  as  sly  as  a  fi-niale  fox.  Mollio  won't  escape  from  tlii-m. 
She  may  yield,  if  blio  really  is  eonvineed  you  arc  Iut  husband. 
Tell  her  you  love  her  to  distraction — can't  live  without  her, 
and  so  on.  Slio  may  yield.  Who  knows?  These  girls  aro 
bundles  of  ineonsi.sii'ncies,  and  Mollie  J)ario  the  most  incon- 
sistent of  the  tribe.  Have  tho  ceremony  performed  over  again 
bi'fon*  wiliu'sscs,  and  bring  her  back  here  in  a  month — Mrs. 
(!uy  Oleander!  Even  if  she  won't  consent  from  pity  for  your 
state,  she  may  to  escape  from  that  dreary  Long  Island  farm. 
She  did  once  before,  you  know,  and  may  af;;iin.  That  is  all  I 
have  to  suggest,  (iuy.  "JMio  rest  is  with  yourself.  In  tho 
voi-abulary  of  great  ni'Mi,  tiiero  is  no  such  word  as  fail." 

She  rose  up.  Dr.  Oleander  grasi>ed  her  hand  in  an  out- 
burst of  entiiusiaatic  gratitude. 

"  Blanche,  you're  a  brick — a  trump — a  jewel  beyond  price! 
\  don't  know  how  to  thank  you.  You're  a  woman  of  genius 
— a  wife  for  a  Talleyrand!" 

"  Thanks.  Let  me  bo  able  to  return  the  compliment.  J 
ask  no  more.  Let  mo  see  how  cleverly  you  will  carry  oft 
pretty  Mollie.    I  ncTer  want  to  see  her  under  this  roof  again." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE   SPIDER   AND  THE   FLY. 

The  April  day  had  been  very  long,  and  very,  very  dull  in 
the  handsome  Walraven  Fifth  Avenue  palace.  Long  and 
lamentable,  as  the  warning  cry  of  tho  banshee,  wailed  the 
dreary  blast.  Ceaselessly,  dismally  beat  the  rain  against  tho 
glass.  The  icy  breath  of  tho  frozen  North  was  in  the  wind, 
curdling  your  blood  and  turning  your  skin  to  goosc-llrsh;  and 
the  sky  was  of  load,  and  the  streets  were  slippery  and  sl'>ppy, 
and  the  New  York  pavements  altogether  a  delusion  and  a 
snare. 

All  through  this  bad,  black  April  day,  Mollie  Dane  had 
wandered  through  the  house,  upstairs  and  dowu-stairs,  like  an 
uneasy  ghost. 

Some  evil  spirit  of  unrest  snroly  posseased  her.  She  could 
SfOllle  nowhere.  She  throw  her^u'lf  on  a  sofa  in  her  pretty 
bedroom,  and  tried  to  beguile  the  forlorn  hours  with  tho  latest 
novel.  In  vain.  She  yawned  horribly  over  the  pages  and 
flung  it  from  her  in  disgust. 


!02 


TIIK    UNSEEN    lUlTDEnUOOM. 


SIic  wiindoi'cd  down  to  tlio  (lni\vinr,'-voom  and  triod  the 
gruiul  })iuii;i,  \vho.,(>  tones  wi'.ro  as  (ho  luinic  of  tlio  Kphoroa. 
Still  in  v;iiii.  Tlio  listless  lingers  fell  aiink.saly  on  tlni  ivory 
koys. 

iSlio  strove  to  sleep,  hut  the  nervous  res^tl(^ssness  that  poa- 
soHsod  her  only  drove  her  to  tho  verge  of  feverish  madneas  in 
t!ie  elTort.  The  girl  was  ]«ossesaed  of  a  waking  niglitmare 
not  to  be  shaken  olT. 

"  What  is  it?"  cried  Mojlie,  impatiently,  to  herself. 
''  What  iho  inisehief 8  the  matter  with  me?  I  never  felt  liko 
fhis  hefi)re.  It  can't  l)e  remor-o  for  some  unacted  crime,  t 
never  oonimitted  murder  that  J  know  of.  It  can't  ho  dys- 
pejisiu,  ftir  I've  got  the  dige.stiv(!  powiirs  of  an  anaconda.  It 
caa't  he  tlie  v.eather,  for  I've  struggleil  through  one  or  two 
othi>r  rainy  days  in  my  life-time;  and  it  can't  bo  anxiety  for 
■It  to  oome,  for  i'ju  not  apt  to  get  irito  a  gale  about 
f  Terhaps  it's  a  ])re.sentimcnt  of  evil  to  come.     I'vo 

^leii...  of  such  things.     It's  either  tliut  or  a  tit  of  tho  blue- 
devils!" 

'I'ho  long,  wet,  windy  day  wore  on.  Mr.  Walraven  sic[)t 
thiough  it  comfortably  in  his  study.  Mrs,  Walraven  had  a 
/r/r-a-fr/r  luncheon  with  her  cousin,  tho  ti('Ctor,  and  dawdled 
tho  slow  hours  away  over  iier  tricot  and  fashion  magazines. 

Old  Mme.  Waha\cu  rarely  left  her  own  apartments  of  late 
davs.  iMother-in-1'^w  and  diiughter-in-!aw  detested  each  other 
with  an  intensity  not  common  ev(;n  in  that  relationship.  How 
sho  ever  killed  time  was  a  my-tery  unknown.  IMollie  good- 
iiatiu-eJly  devoted  a  couple  (>r  her  precious  daily  houivj  to  her. 

Tho  house  was  as  still  as  a  toml).  Down-stairs,  Messrs. 
Johnson  and  Vv'ilson,  Mr.  Coachman,  Mme.  (!ook  and  Mile. 
Chambermaid  may  have  enj(;yed  themselves  in  one  another's 
society,  but  above  the  kitchen  cabinet  all  was  forlorn  and  for- 
saken. 

■'  Awfully  slow,  all  thisi"  said  Miss  Dane  to  herself,  with  a 
fi^arful  yawn.  "I'll  die  of  stagnation  if  this  sort  of  thing 
ki'cps  on.  !?il!itiana,  howling  in  tho  IMoated  (u'ango,  must 
have  felt  a  g<iod  deal  as  I  do  just  at  j)rescnt — a  tri lie  worse, 
maybe,  for  I  don't  wish  I  wore  dead  altogether.  The  Tombs 
is  gay  and  festive  compared  to  Fifth  Avenue  on  a  rainy  day. 
I  wish  I  were  back  i)laying  Kanchon  tho  Cricket,  free  and 
hajjpy  once  more,  wearing  s])angle3  as  Ophelia  of  Denmark, 
and  a  gilt  juper  crown  as  Cleopatra  of  ]''gypt.  I  wasn't 
married  then;  and  I  didn't  go  mf>piug  about,  like  an  old  hen 
with  tlie  distemper,  every  time  it  was  wet  and  nasty.  If  it 
iuivps  on  liko  this  1  shall  have  a  pretty  time  of  it  getting  to 


THK    INSKKN     IiKIDKfJKOOM. 


Ion 


Fourteenth   Street,  at  Uii  u'doL-k  to-iii;.'li(.     Aii'l   I'Jl  ^:u!•(.■ly 
j/,0,  if  it  woro  in  ruin  cals,  (\o<rti,  iinil  pitclifoik.sl" 

Slin  ntt)i)(I   (li<-,irily  id    llio  ilnuvin^j-rooni   wiiulow,  1<,     '■.^; 
forlornly  out  :it  tli*-  c'j]i|)'y  .^trc,  t. 

'I'lio  uorio  tvvili;.lit   was   fullin;^',  rain   anil   wiml 
falling'  witli  it,  the  titrett  hinij)s  twinkling:  ;;ho.stil_v 


and 
thi-Miuli 


nsjn;; 


tho  murky  j.'lnan)ii;ir,  the  pavcnu'iit  hkick  and  shining.  l!i- 
lutcl  ptiluritiiiin.H  hnrrii'd  alon.'^  with  ho>vt'd  huad.s  and  n|tliflc;l 
und).cnarf,  thu  Htagca  rattled  past  in  a  ccasdosd  htreitni,  I'idl  i.> 
ovcrllowin;,'.  Tin.'  rainy  ni^dit  wtis  .s.-tlling  doun,  the  t^toirii 
incrfasinj,'  a.-i  the  dai  knuss  oanic  on.  Moljie  survcycil  all  tiiid 
disconsolately  enough. 

"  [  don't  mind  a  dnckinf:,"  kIic  mnrmnred,  plainlivily, 
"  and  1  novi'r  lake  e.dd;  but  I  don't  want  that  man  to  see  nie 
Jooknig  like  a  drort'iied  r;it.  Oh,  if  it  shonl  1  turn  out  to  ho 
llni,di — dear,  dear  Ihijjih!''  Her  faee  lighltd  rapturously  at 
the  tlvought.  "  r  never  kn«\\'  hou'  much  J  loved  him  until  I 
h)6t  him.  If  it  inn't  Hugh,  and  lliigh  asks  mo  to  run  away 
with  liijn  to-morrow,  I'll  do  it — 1  declare  I  will — and  the 
others  may  go  to  grassl" 

At  that  momeni  voices  sounded  on  the  stairs— the  voices  of 
Mrs.  W'alravcn  and  her  cousin. 

The  (lrawing-r<;nm  door  was  ajar,  Mollie't^  liltio  (ignre  hid- 
den in  the  amber  drapery  of  the  windo'.v,  and  ^he  could  seo 
Ihem  ])lainly,  without,  herself  being  seen. 

"  "S'ou  won't  fail?"  Mrs.  Walraven  said,  impressively.  "  1 
will  do  my  part.     Are  you  Cjual  to  your.-?" 

"  I  never  fail  where  1  mean  to  succeed,"  answered  Dr.  (!uy, 
with  c<|inil  empiia.sis.  "  Sooner  or  later,  I  triimiphl  1  shall 
trium()h  now!  '  AH  things  are  ])Os.-iiblo  t>»  him  who  knows 
how  to  wait.'  I  have  waited,  and  this  iiighc  gives  me  my  re- 
ward." 

The  house  door  closed  alter  the  young  man.  Mis.  Wal- 
raven j)eei)ed  into  the  drawing-room,  nevtr  seeing  the  slender 
figure  amid  tho  voluminous  golden  damask,  and  then  re- 
ascended  the  stairs.     Mollie  was  again  in  silence  and  solituile. 

*'  is'ow,  what  are  those  two  up  to,  1  should  like  to  km>w?" 
solihwjuized  tiie  young  hidy.  "  Some  jjiece  rf  atrocious  mis- 
chief, I'll  bo  bound!  JIo  h)oks  hke  the  .Miltonic  Luril'er 
sometimes,  that  num,  only  not  one  half  so  good-looking;  but 
tht^re  is  a  smikish,  treacherous,  cnid-blo-^led  glare  in  his 
greenish-bla(;k  eyi'S  that  mak(M  me  think  of  tlio  ari'h-tempter; 
and  some  people  have  tho  bad  taste  to  ca!l  him  handsome." 

Tho  twilight  had  ended  iu  darknefis  by  this  time,     .llollio 


Iu4 


TliK    UNSEEN     BRIDEGUOOM. 


"  1 

like 


put  hor  baud  to  hor  bell  to  Hud  hur  wutoh,  bit  it  was  not 
tberft 

*'  1  haTo  loft  it  on  my  dro~  in{j;-t!ibIo,'*  bIio  thi)ii<rbt,  moving 
away.  "  1  will  have  n  (  up  of  Uu  in  my  rocuj  lliis  t-vt'iiing. 
and  let  Riiurily  and  Muiliimo  Hliiiu^be  (iiiii)  logt  lliiT.  1  wish 
it  were  time  to  start.     1  ul)oiniiial)lv  buto  wjiitiiif,'. " 

Mollii)  foiitul  her  wat«b  ou  the  tal)I(',  and  was  rather  sur- 
prised to  see  it  past  eight. 

*'  1  Imd  no  idea  it  wm  so  Into,"  she  i-aid  to  herHelf. 
shall  leave  here  at  half  past  nine.  There  is  nothing 
keeping  tryst  in  season  ' 

She  rang  for  Lucy,  orilored  a  little  supper  in  her  room,  and 
then  dismi  •.sed  the  maid. 

"  I  slii  n't  want  you  again  to-night,  Lucy,"  sbo  said. 
"  You  can  go  out,  if  you  like,  and  see  your  mother," 

Lucy  tri|)|)ed  away,  ri;iiit  well  pleased,  and  MoUio  dawdled 
the  time  over  her  isiipper  and  a  book. 

Ilnlf  past  nine  came  very  soon. 

**  Time  to  get  ready,"  thought  Mdllio,  starting  tip. 
"  Dear,  dear!  it's  highly  romantic  and  highly  sensational, 
this  nocturnal  appointment  with  a  masked  man,  and  that 
man  one's  mysterious  iiusband.  1  can't  say  much  for  the 
place;  there's  p-ecious  little  romance  around  the  Maiaon 
bort'e.     Does  it  still  rain,  I  wonder!'" 

She  opened  the  blind  and  looked  out.  Ves,  it  still  rained; 
jt  still  blew  in  long,  shuddering  gusts;  the  low-lying  sky  was 
inky  black;  athwart  the  darkness  Hashed  the  murky  ttreofc 
lamps. 

Mollio  dropped  the  curtain,  with  a  little  shiver. 

"  '  The  niglit  is  coUl,  and  dark,  and  dreary, 
It  raiikj,  and  the  wind  is  never  weary. 

It's  a  horrible  night  to  be  abroad,  but  I'll  keep  my  word,  if.  I 
drown  for  it!" 

She  hutited  up  the  long  water-proof  mantle  she  had  worn 
the  night  of  her  abiluction,  drew  the  hood  far  over  her  head 
and  face,  wrapped  it  around  hor,  opened  the  window,  and 
resolutely  stepped  out  on  the  piazza. 

She  paused  an  instant — a  blinding  rush  of  wind  and  rain 
almost  took  her  oft  her  feet;  the  next,  the  brave  little  heroine 
was  iiitting  along  the  slippery  piazza,  down  the  stairs,  out  of 
the  wicket  gate  and  into  the  black,  shining  street. 

Asvay  sped  Mollie — swift  as  a  little,  wingless  Mercury — • 
down  the  avenue,  through  Utdon  Square,  to  the  place  of  tryst 

She  espected  every  moment  to  hear  the  city  clocks  chime 


THE    CNSKEN    PRinEOROOM. 


105 


ten,  but  she  rcnchecl  Broailn'HV  without  hearing  Ihcm.     Little 
wotulor,  when  it  was  but  iiiilf  (msL  niiH\ 

Drenrhtul  through,  blown  ab(jut,  biciithlosH,  panting,  nimoat 
gcart'd  ut  thf(irt'ar\  foriornJiesH  of  ilm  dtv-'ortccl  struots,  iLo  ad- 
verjturoiis  litllo  (hiuisel  reaiiht'd  I  ho  phiiio  of  tryst. 

Was  she  too  8oon?  ISurcly  not.  i'hore  stoi-d  a  nab,  drawn 
closo  to  the  curbstone,  and  there,  in  the  thad  ' '  of  tho  cab, 
stood  a  tall  man  in  a  cloak,  eviilenfly  wiii(ini>. 

'J'hu  hunpaof  the  carria;:e  shone  upon  him,  bu^.  Iho  cloak 
collar  was  so  turntHl  up,  the  eloudud  hut  t^ii  fiuiled  down, 
such  a  f|uantity  of  dark  beard  between,  thd,  noiluiig  was  vis- 
ible of  (i  e  face  whatever. 

Moiiie  pauseil,  altogether  oxbausted;  the  man  advanced  a 
step  "ut  of  the  shallow. 

**  White  Mask?"  he  asked,  in  a  cautious  whisper. 

"  iilaok  Ma.-kl"  responded  Mollie,  proniptlv. 

"All  right,  the 

speaking  rajiidly, 
am 


1' 


enl"  rt'plicii  tin- rnun,  spei'king  in  French,  and 
"  h  s  inipi>ssiliK'  to  stand  here  in  the  rain 


talk.     J  have  brought  a  carriage — let  nie  assi-tt  you  in." 

But  MolIie  shrutik  back.  Some  namelesa  thrill  of  terror 
suddenly  made  herdi  "ad  Iho  man. 

"  You  must— you  must!"  cried  tho  man,  in  an  impetuous 
whisper.  '*  Wo  can  not  stand  hero  in  this  down-pour.  ])on't 
you  sec  it  is  impossible?  And  tho  iiist  [xdieema!!  who  comes 
along  will  bo  walking  us  oil  to  the  slatio?i-hnuse." 

lie  caught  her  arm  and  half  led  her  to  tho  carriage. 
Sljrinking  instinctively,  ycit  hardly  knowing  what  to  do,  she 
foun  I  herself  in  it,  and  seated,  before  she  (lui.e  knew  it. 

lie  sprung  after  her,  closed  the  door,  tin.'  carriage  started  at 
once  at  a  great  pace,  and  tho  poor  little  lly  was  fairly  caught 
in  tho  spider's  web. 

"  1  don't  like  this,"  eaid  Mollie,  decisively.  "  I  had  no 
idi«i  of  entering  a  carriage  when  1  appointed  this  meeting. 
Where  are  you  taking  me  to?" 

'*  There  is  no  need  to  bo  alarmed,  pretty  M.  Hie,"  said  the 
man,  still  speaking  French.  "  I  have  given  the  coHchman 
orders  to  rattio  along  t'uough  the  streets.  We  cmi  talk  here 
at  oui'  leisure,  and  as  long  as  wo  plea>e.  You  mil,  pi'rceivo 
the  utter  imi)08sibi|ity  of  conversation  at  a  street  coiuer  and 
in  a  down-pour  of  rain." 

M')Ilie  did,  but  she  tidgetcd  in  hnr  seat,  ai'd  fi  It  particularly 
uncomfortable,  all  the  same.  J«ow  that  it  wa^  too  late,  she 
began  to  think  she  had  acted  unwieely  in  app  duting  this 
meeting. 

*'  Why  didn't  1  lot  well  enough  alone?"  thought  tho  young 


loa 


THE    UNSKKN    JIIIIDEGHOOM. 


laoy.  "  At  a  tiistanco,  it  pcemcd  the  easiY'st  thing  in  the 
world;  now  tiuit  1  am  in  tlio  man's  })o\ver,  1  am  afraid  of  him, 
movii  so  than  1  over  was  bofori'. '"' 

Tlu!  man  had  taken  hh  seat  beside  her.  At  this  juncturo 
ho  put  iii:^  arm  around  hor  waist. 

'*  Why  can't  we  bo  comfort^i^do  and  alTectionitio,  n.s  nnm 
and  wife  shoidd — eh,  Moilie?  You  iloji't  know  how  mueh 
obliged  to  yon  1  am  for  this  intorvii'W. " 

Tiiero  was  a  ring  of  triumph  in  \m  tone  that  Moliie  cnulsl 
not  fail  to  perceive.  Her  In  ;ir(,  giive  a  great  jump  of  terror, 
but  she  angrily  llung  liersidt'  out  of  his  arm. 

"  Keep  your  dislaiicc,  L-irl  How  dure  you?  You  sing  quite 
a  new  song  since  I  saw  vou  lasLl  Hon't  you  lav  a  linger  on 
me,  or  VU—" 

"  What,  pretty  Cricket?"  wi'.li  a  sardonic  laugh. 

Mollio  caught  her  breath.  That  nsune,  that  tone — both 
wore  altogether  new  in  the  unknown  man. 

The  somul  of  the  voice,  now  that  he  spoke  I'^reticji,  was 
quite  uulike  that  of  the  man  sho  had  coiuu  to  meet.  And  iie 
was  not  wont  to  cull  her  Cricket. 

Had  sho  made  some  horrible  mistake — been  caught  in  somo 
dreadful  traj)?    ]'>ut,  no;  that  was  impossible. 

"  Look  here,  M"r.  ]\raHk,"  said  Moilie,  tiercely,  "  1  don't 
want  any  of  your  familiarity,  and  I  trust  to  your  hotii'i-  to  w- 
spect  my  unprotected  situation.  I  a})poinietl  this  meeting  b  ■•< 
cause  you  kej)t  your  word,  and  behaved  with  tolerable  decency 
when  we  last  parted.  1  want  to  end  this  mutter.  I  want  to 
know  who  3'ou  are." 

"  My  precious  ]Vr,)lIie,  your  husband!" 

"  ])Ut  who  are  you?" 

"  One  of  your  rejected  suitors." 

"  ])Ut  which  of  them? — there  were  so  many.** 

"  The  one  who  loved  you  best." 

"  I'rihawl    I  don't  want  trillingi    What  is  vour  name?" 

"Krnest." 

"  I  never  had  a  lover  oi  that  name,"  said  Moilie,  decidedly. 
"  You  are  only  mocking  me.  Are  you — are  you — Hii/^h 
Ingelow?" 

Her  voice  shook  a  little.  The  man  by  her  aide  noted  it,  and 
burst  into  a  dcjisive  laugh. 

"Youii.ro  not  JFugh  Jugelowl"  Mollio  cried  in  a  voice  of 
sharp,  sudden  puin — '*  you  ur(^  not!" 

"  An{i  you  ;ire  sorry,  pretty  Moilie?  W  hy,  that's  odil,  tool 
He  was  a  rcjec'ed  lover,  was  he  not?" 

"Lot  me  outi"  exclaimed  the  girl,  frantically — '*  let  me 


THE    rXPKKN    LlilDKOUOOM. 


107 


fo!  I  thouplifc  you  wore  ITii^^li  In^rpiow,  or  I  never  would 
have  comol     Let  i)i(M)',it!     J>(.'L  uio  nuti" 

8ho  uuido  a  ruiih  iiL  the  door,  with  a  shrill  cry  of  a-'Tright. 
A  Kiiddeii  ])ani(!  had  t;eizi'<l  jr-r — a  horribit'  dread  »»!!  the  man 
bcoidt)  her — a  sttiiinin^;  seuso  that  it  was  not  the  man  sho 
lovfd. 

Aj^ain  that  ^■tridc'^t  lauLdi — nio(,d\i)ig,  Ha'doni'%  triiunpliant 
— raii{jr  through  the  carria^ije.  Her  arnia  were  caught  and  held 
us  i)i  a  vise. 

"  Not  so  fast,  my  fair  one;  there  is  no  ef?capo:  I  can't  live 
without  ynu,  a?ul  1  see  no  reason  why  a  man  hlionld  live  with- 
out his  wife.  You  a])poiiited  this  meetiiig  yourself,  and  I'm 
excessively  obliged  to  you.  J  am  taking  vdu  to  tli-  sea-side  to 
i-pend  the  honey-moon.  J)nirt  strii;?. :  >  tn) — we'll  return  to 
X'.Mv  "^'orlc  by  and  by.  As  for  l[i!gii  Ingelow,  you  )nus'tn't 
think  of  him  now;  it  isn't  proper  in  a  respcetabie  married 
wonuiii  to  know  there  is  another  man  in  tlie  scheme  of  the 
universe  cxccjtt  hi  r  husbar.d.  JVloliiel  Moliiel  if  you  h 'ream 
in  that  manner  you'll  compel  me  to  resort  to  chloroform — u 
vulgar  alternative,  my  dearest." 

I'»!it  Mollie  struggled  like  a  mad  tiling,  and  sereamed— wild, 
ghrill,  wo)niinly  shrieks  that  rang  out  even  above  the  rattlo 
{Hid  roll  of  the  carriiigo'  wIiblIs. 

The  man,  with  an  oath,  pla<'ed  his  hand  tightly  over  her 
mouth.  They  w^re  going  at  a  frightful  jja'.e,  and  already  the 
city,  with  its  liglus  and  jiassengors,  was  left  far  behirul.  1'hey 
were  Hying  over  a  dark,  wet  road,  anil  the  wind  roared  through 
distant  trees,  and  the  rain  fidl  dovn  like  a  second  deluge. 

"  Let  me  go — let  me  go!"  Moliie  sirove  maillv  to  cry,  but 
the  tightening  grasp  of  that  largn  hand  sii'    .at.ed  her. 

Tiio  carriage  seemed  suddenly  to  reel,  :i  thousand  lights 
ila-hi'd  before  her  eyes,  a  roar  liK'-'  the  roar  of  numy  waters 
surged  in  her  cars,  a  deathly  siekness  and  coldness  lirept  over 
lier,  anJ  with  a  gas]»ing  sob  she  slipped  back,  fainting  away 
lor  the  first  time  in  her  life. 


CIIAPTEi;    XV. 

Tlin;   MAX    IX   TJIK   MASK. 

Dizzii-Y  Mollie  opened  hvv  oyea.  Confused,  bewildered, 
she  strove  to  sit  up  and  eatili  bet  breath  in  broken  gasps. 

"So  sorry,  Mnllie,"  said  an  odious  voice  in  her  ear. 
"  ignite  shocked,  1  am  suie,  to  havo  yo;i  faint;  but  yon'vo  not 
b  :en  insensible  half  ;mi  hour.  It  wasn't  my  fault,  \on  know. 
You  would  scream,  you   would  struggle,  you  would  cxluuwl 


KiB 


THE    UNSEEN    BRIDEGROOM. 


vouraelf !  And  what  is  the  consequence  of  all  this  excitement? 
Wliv,  you  pop  over  in  a  dead  swoon." 

Moiiie  raiscrj  herself  up,  sLill  dazed  and  confused.  She  put 
her  hfind  to  her  forehead  and  strove  to  recall  her  drifting 
senses. 

They  were  gtill  howling  along  at  a  sharp  pace  over  a  muddy 
country  road;  stiil  fell  the  ram;  still  howled  the  wind;  stiil 
pilch  darlcneas  vvrappad  all  witliout.  Wore  ihey  going  on  for- 
ever?    VViis  it  a  ri-alily  or  a  horrible  nif:hUuare? 

"  We  are  ahiiost  at  our  journey's  end,"  said  the  man, 
soothingly.  "  (youio,  cheer  up.  Cricket.  I  love  you,  aud  I 
v/on't  hurt  a  hair  of  your  heail." 

"  Where  are  we?"  Mollie  faintly  asked. 

"  lla^ttliug  over  a  beastly  eouutiy  road,"  answered  her  com- 
panion, "  under  a  sky  a-;  black  as  Erebus,  and  in  a  dowi>pour 
that  tlneatens  a  second  Hood.  'J'liere'a  the  sea.  We're  down 
*  by  the  sad  pca  waves '  now,  Moiiie." 

Mollio  listened.  Above  the  roar  of  the  elemental  strife  she 
could  hear  the  deep  and  mighty  bass  of  the  roaring  sea. 

"  We  will  be  there  in  ten  minutes  more,"  said  the  man, 
brisklv. 

"  Where  is  there?"  inquired  Mollie,  in  the  same  faint  ac- 
cent. 

"  Home,  my  pretty  wife — our  cottage  by  the  ana,  and  all 
that,  yon  know.  Don't  droop,  my  charming  Ciioket.  We'll 
be  as  happy  together  as  the  days  are  long.  I  love  you  with 
all  my  soul — I  swear  it  by  all  that's  gowl  and  gracious;  and 
I'll  make  you  the  best  husband  ever  bright-eyiid  little  girl 
liad.  Trust  me,  Mollie,  and  cheer  up.  Yoioks!  Here  we 
are." 

The  carriage  stopped  with  a  jerk  that  precipitated  Mollie 
into  her  captor's  arms;  but,  with  an  angry  push,  she  was  free 
again  diiet'Ll}'. 

Thi^  muji  opened  the  door  and  sprung  out.  Wind  howling, 
rain  tuliing,  trees  surging,  sea  roaring,  and  a  big  dog  barking, 
made  the  bliu'k  night  hidfous. 

"  Djwti,  Tigir!  Down,  ynn  big,  noisy  brute!"  cried  the 
man.     *'  Here,  ^rdlic,  lot.  me  lu'lp  you  out." 

Thf're  was  no  escape — Mollio  k't  him.  The  salt  breath  of 
the  sra  bit^w  in  In  r  face — ils  awful  thunder  on  the  sIicb 
drowtu'd  all  less'M-  noifitv'. 

Through  the  b!a  ■kn(\ss  of  the  blac^k  night  she  could  see  the 
blacker  onthne  of  a  house,  lr(itn  one  or  two  windovvo  of  wh''  h 
faint  lights  shone.  Tossing  i.e.  i  surrounded  il — a  high  board 
fence  and  a  tall,  padlocked  gate  inclosed  it. 


THE    UNSEEN    BRIDEGROOM. 


109 


"  All  right,  Mollie,"  the  man  Euid.     "  Thia  is  home!" 

He  drew  h  r  arm  v/ilLiii  his  and  hurried  her  up  o  long, 
graveled  pc  h,  uruhT  dri[)pirig,  foSiinjj  tiees. 

The  stoim  ,i  wii»d  and  n.in  neu'ly  buit  the  breatli  out  of 
the  giil'd  body,  aud  she  waa  glad  when  the  ahtlter  of  a  great 
front  porch  was  gained. 

"  I  hope  you're  not  very  wcfc,  my  little  \vift>,"  said  iho  man; 
"  because  I  don't  know  as  there  ia  a  chiitigo  of  garnn  lUc;  in 
this  establishment  that  will  fit  you.  However,  as  you  will  re- 
tire directly,  it  dneyn't  so  much  matter." 

lie  knocked  with  his  knuckles  a  thundering  rev(  ille  that 
echoed  and  re-e(!hoed  ghostily  through  the  rumbling  old  houi-o. 
In  a  moment  there  was  a  shuflling  of  footsteps  inside,  a 
rattling  of  a  chain,  ami  the  noi.<y  undriing  of  rusty  bolts. 

"  Who's  there?"  a^ked  a  cracked  old  voice.  "  Is  it  the 
young  master?" 

"  Yes,  you  old  idiotl  Didn't  1  send  yon  word?  Open  the 
door  at  once,  and  be  hanged  to  you!" 

A  key  turned  gratingly  in  the  ponderous  lock — bolts  and 
chains  fell,  and  the  massive  door  swung  back  on  creaky  old 
hinges. 

"  Like  an  ancient  castle  in  a  ptory  book,"  thought  Jlollie, 
in  the  midst  of  her  trouble.  "  Where  in  the  wide  world  am 
1?  Oh,  what  an  unfortunate  littlu  wretch  I  am!  A  stolen 
princess  couldn't  bo  abducted  and  imprisonoil  (ftener." 

The  opening  of  the  door  showed  a  long,  black,  gloomy  en- 
trance hall — bare,  bleak  and  draughty.  Two  peoj.'le  stood 
there — a  grizzly  old  man,  stooping,  and  bleared,  and  wrinkled, 
who  had  opened  the  door,  and  a  gri?;/.ly  old  wi>miin,  jnnt  a 
shade  less  stooping,  and  bleared,  and  wrinkled,  who  held  a 
spnttering  tallow  candle  aloft. 

"  How  are  you,  Pete.?  How  are  you,  Sally?"  said  Mollie's 
conductor,  nodding  familiarly  to  these  two  antedduvians. 
*'  la  the  room  ready?     Here's  the  lady." 

lie  drew  Mollie,  who«e  arm  he  retaitjcd  in  a  close  grasp,  a 
little  closer  to  him,  and  MoUie  nolicid  tbiit,  for  some  reason, 
tho  ancient  pair  8hrunk  back,  and  hxiked  as  though  they  wore 
a  little  afraid  of  her. 

**  The  room's  all  ready,"  said  the  old  woman,  with  a  pair 
of  glittering  little  eyes  lixcd,  as  if  fa  cinated,  on  Mollis'.s 
pretty  face.  "Tho  miosis  and  me's  be(>n  a-tidying  of  it  all 
day  long.  Poor  creeterl  so  young  and  to  pretty!  What  a 
pity!" 

'Phis  last  was  soffo  voce,  but  Mollie's  Cjuick  ear  caught  it. 
bho  looked  up  at  hor  conduct  or,  but  cloak  aud  hat  and  whis- 


110  XHE   u>,«i:ujs    ]ii:ii)i-;(ii;00M. 

kers  (li;-,t,niiHCtl  him  iU'  oHcci  utilly  i.s  flic;  inn^k  liiid  donv  <^n 
other  0(.i;asions.  Mh-  looked  iiuci^  iit  l,h'.'  ol  I  v.uiiiun  arid  IilM 
ont  lior  su]iplit'al.inji;  IkukIh. 

''  yiy  '^ood  uouKui.  \vho«vv(M*  you  iu'o,  if  yon  hiivc  i\  \\i,niiiu''ti 
lioart,  tiiku  pity  on  inc.  1  have  been  bioti<,dit  here  iigaiiist 
my  will  by  this  niiin." 

"  Ah,  poor  creetcr!"  si^^hed  the  old  wuniau,  tliakiiij;  Ii.t 
grizzly  old  head;  "  arf  if  I  didn't  know  that,  i'oor  lin!.' 
crecter!" 

"  Help  rnel"  Millie  cried.  "Don't  aid  this  man  tokc(]i 
me  liore.  I  don't  kno'.v  whrt  he  is— 1  h-ue  been  wickedly  en- 
trapped. I  am  a  liitlc  l;u'[ik;-s  girl,  luit  1  have  rirh  and 
powerful  friends  who  \vi;l  liberally  reward  you.  Don't  lulji 
this  bad,  bold  mati  to  ke' p  me  a  prisuner  here." 

"  Ah,  poor  eieelirl"  j^iglnd  the  old  w. man,  plaintively,  a 
socor.d  time;  "  only  hear  her  talk  now.  And  Btu.h  a  ]>retiv 
little  thing,  tiol  ].)iii-\  dear!  It  gees  to  one '.-j  hen rt.  i)on't 
keep  her  t-taniliiig  in  tlictii  wet  elolhe.-:,  f^ir.  Ci^iio  ujistair.s. 
8iii'h  a  pity,  siuh  a  pityl" 

She  hobbkd  auav,  muttering  to  liersolf  aiul  sl;akiiig  her 
head.     The  di-sguistd  nmn  laii^hcd — a  losv,  dcridiiig  laugh. 

"  You  siiO,  my  dear  litiie  Mollie,  you'll  get  any  amount  ( ' 
pity,  but  nothing  (.dse.  Old  Sally  will  be  very  .sincerely  k.miv 
for  you,  but  she  won't  help  you  to  eseafie.  ()n  tii;^  contrary 
she'll  keep  you  under  look  and  key  us  failhfully  as  ihciigh  yot; 
were  the  K-  h-i-noor.  Cnmo  in;  you  may  take  cold  in  this 
nasty,  draughty  passage." 

He  drew  her  with  him.  ^rollie  seemed  in  a  sort  of  dreamy 
swoon,  and  sveut  ]j.i-sivi;ly.  Thev  ascended  the  stairs  into 
another  dark  and  d.-aughly  hall,  l!r.iiki'd  on  cith(!r  side  by  :i 
eou[)le  of  doors.  One  of  these  the  old  dame  ojiened,  and  cjuiLo 
a  Mew  picture  bui'st  on  Moliie's  sight. 

'.riio  apartment  wa^  not  at  all  like  the  mvsterious  padded 
room  of  former  exi)erience;  the  four  bare  walls  were  [dustercd 
and  blankly  bare;  the  baiih^d  iioor  was  htrewn  with  rags;  the 
two  big  scjuare  windows  were  draped  with  ])aper  blinds.  A 
huge  iiro  of  logs,  such  as  Mollie  had  never  beheld  in  her  life 
before,  roared  gloriously  in  the  old-fashioned  iire-place,  ai  d 
lighted  the  room  with  a  lurid  glow.  A  f  air-p'ist  btdhtcad, 
the  bed  t;ovcred  with  a  gaudy  patch-work  or  eounterpani', 
Kto>d  in  one  corner,  a  tabh^  with  a  while  clolii  stood  in  an- 
other, a  chest  of  dreweiv  in  a  thi  d,  and  the  door  by  whieh 
they  <'nlered  in  the  fourth.     'I'his  was  Mollie's  new  prison. 

"  J'degj'.et  simplicity,''  obsctvcd  ;:jo  man,  Icaiing  her  in: 
"  but  wo  will  do  our  best  to  m»ko  you  eomfortablo  during 


THE    UNSEEN    P.RTDEOROOr. 


IM 


your  sfay.     It  need  not  be  long — you  knn\r  it  depondo  on 
yourself.  Mo] lie." 

"Oil  my^self?"' 

She  turned  her  pale  fuce  and  angry  eyes  upon  him. 

"  1  iini  your  husband  by  a  (>ecrct  marriage,  you  know.  Let 
th'it  niiirriai;*!  bo  solemnized  over  agfiin  iti  public — no  ono 
nwed  know  of  the  other:  consent  to  bo  my  wife  openly  aTtd 
above-board,  and  your  prison  doorrf  will  flv  oiv.'U  (hat  hour.'' 

"  In  lleavi-n'ri  name,  who  are  you?"  oried  Mollie,  im- 
patiently. "  Knd  this  ridiculous  farce — remove  that  di'-gnise 
— let  me  see  who  1  am  f^jieaking  to.  This  melodramatic  ab- 
surilitv  has  gone  on  long  enough — tlie  play  is  played  out. 
Talk  to  me,  face  to  face,  like  a  man,  if  you  darel" 

llor  eyes  bla/.ed.  her  voic.-e  rose.  Tiie  old  woman  looked 
from  one  to  the  othtr,  "far  wilf*,"  but  in  evident  eurio.'ity. 
The  man  had  persisted  in  speaking  to  her  in  French,  and  Mol- 
lie Juid  answered  liim  in  that  language. 

"  lie  it  as  you  fay  I"  cried  her  captor,  suddenly;  "  only  re- 
member, ^.lollie,  whether  I  am  the  person  you  prefer  ''^  see 
utuier  this  di'^guise  or  ?iot,  I  am  ip^v.-rthelc^'s  your  hn^;bilnd  as 
fast  as  the  lioverend  liaymond  Ka.-ideigh  can  tic  the  knot. 
You  shall  know  wlio  I  am,  since  it  is  only  a  question  of  to- 
night or  to-morrow  at  the  m'>--t.     Sally,  you  can  go."' 

Sally  looked  from  one  to  the  other  with  :iharp,  suspicious 
old  eyes. 

"  Won't  the  young  lady  want  me,  sir?  Is  she  "ble  to  'tend 
to  herself?" 

"  (Juito  able,  Sally;  she'^j  not  ?o  bad  as  you  think.  Go 
away,  like  a  good  soul.  I  have  a  soothing  draught  to  admin- 
''-•ter  to  my  patient.' ' 

"  Your  pationtl"  said  Mollie,  turning  the  Hashing  light  of 
her  great  blue  eyes  full  uj)on  liim. 

The  man  lau^lled. 

"  1  iuid  to  invent  a  little  fable  for  these  good  people. 
Didn't  you  notice  they  looked  rither  afraid  of  you?  Of  course 
you  did.     Well,  niv  dear  Mollij,  thev  think  vou're  mad." 

"Mad?" 

"  Exactly,  ^'ou  are,  a  little,  you  know.  Tlun'  thiid<  you've 
come  here  under  medical  orders  t^  r.-iTuii  by  the  sea-shore.  I 
told  them  so.  One  hates  to  tell  lies,  ijut,  unfortunately,  white 
ones  arc  indispens.ible  at  times." 

The  blue  eyes  shout!  fidi  upon  him,  blazing  with  nuigniiicont 
disdain. 

"  ^'ou  are  a  poorer  creature  than  even  I  took  you  to  be,  and 
you  have  acted  a  mean  and  uast;irdly  part  from  the  first — the 


112 


THE    UNSEEN    BHIDECUOOM. 


part  of  a  soliomor  and  a  coward.  Pray,  let  me  see  the  faoe  of 
cur  nio.lcni  Ivnitrlit  of  Roruiince. " 

01  i  Sally  ha  1  linl)bli  d  from  the  room  and  Uiey  stood  alono, 
half  the  width  of  the  aftartmcnt  between  tli(ni. 

"  Hard  words,  my  pretty  onel  You  for[,'t.'t  it  was  all  for 
love  of  yoii.  I  didii'l  want  to  see  you  the  wife  of  an  old  do- 
tard vou  tlidti't  care  a  fillip  for.*' 

"  So,  to  mend  m.itlers,  you've  made  me  the  wife  of  a 
soonndrel.     1  must  forever  hale  and  despise — yourself." 

"  jS'ot  so,  Moll II' I  I  mean  you  to  be  very  fond  of  mo  one 
of  these  davs,  I  dm\'t  see  why  you  shouldn't.  I'm  younj;; 
I'm  well  oil';  I'm  clever;  I'm  not  bad-lonkin^'.  There's  no 
reason  why  yon  shoiildn't  be  very  fond  of  m(%  indeed.  Love 
be<:jet3  love,  they  say,  and  I  love  yitu  to  madness." 

"  So  it  appears.  A  lunatic  asylum  wouhl  be  the  fitter  place 
for  you,  if  yon  must  escape  state  prison.  Are  we  to  stand 
here  and  bandy  words  all  uight?     Show  me  who  you  arc  and 

go." 

The  man  laid  his  hand  on  his  hat. 

"  Have  you  no  suspicions,  Mollie?  Can't  you  meet  me 
half-way — can't  y^a  guess?" 

"  1  don't  want  to  guess." 

She  spoke  defiantly;  but  her  heart  was  going  in  great,  suffo- 
cating plimges  against  her  side,  now  that  the  supreme  moment 
had  come. 

"  Then,  Mollie,  behold  your  husband!" 

With  a  th''atrical  liourish  he  whipped  off  slouched  hat,  flow- 
ing beard  and  wig,  d''opped  the  disguising  cloak,  and  stood 
before  her  revealed — [)i:  Guy  Oleander! 

She  gave  one  gasping  cry,  no  more.  She  stood  looking  at 
I)im  as  if  turning  to  stone,  her  face  marble  white — awfully 
rigid — her  eyes  starting  from  their  sockets.  The  man's  face 
wafj  lighted  with  a  sinister,  triimiphant  glow. 

"  Look  long,  Mollie,"  ho  said,  exultantly,  "  and  look  well. 
You  see  your  liut^band  for  the  first  time." 

And  then  Mollie  caught  her  gasping  breath  at  the  taunt, 
and  the  blood  rushed  in  a  dark,  red  torrent  of  rage  and  shame 
to  her  fair  face. 

"  Kever!"  slie  cried,  raising  her  arm  aloft—"  never,  so  help 
mo  Heaven!  1  will  L.t  in  this  prison  and  starve  to  death!  1 
will  throw  myself  out  of  yonder  window  into  the  black,  boiling 
Koa!  I  would  bo  torn  to  pieces  by  wild  horses!  I  wdl  die  ten 
thousand  dea'hs^,  but  I  will  never,  never,  never  bo  wife  of 
yours,  Guy  Oleatider!" 

Her  voice  rose  to  a  shriek — hysterical,  frenzied.     For  the 


THE    UNSEEN    BRlDEfiROOM. 


113 


i)i3taut  she  felt  as  though  she  were  going  mad,  and  she  looked 
it,  and  the  man  recoiled  before  her. 

"  Mollie!"  he  gasped,  in  consternation. 

The  girl  stamped  lier  foot  on  the  floor. 

"  ])()u't  call  me  Mollie;"  she  st'reamcd,  passionatfly. 
"  Don't  dare  to  sptak  to  me,  to  look  at  me,  to  rnme  near  me! 
1  have  heard  of  women  imirdi.'riiig  men,  aii'l  if  1  lurl  a  loaded 
pistol  this  moment,  (Jod  help  yon.  Doctor  Olearid'  rl" 

She  lookoil  like  a  nnid  thing — like  a  ciazed  pvllioiu'ss.  }{or 
wild,  fair  hair  fell  loOwse  about  her;  her  blue  even  blazed  yteily 
flame;  her  face  was  crimson  wiiii  the  intensity  of  her  rage,  aiid 
shame,  and  »le«pair,  from  forehead  to  rliin. 

"  Gol"  she  (iried,  fiercely,  "  vou  snake,  you  coward,  you 
felon,  you  abductor  of  feeble  girN,  you  p  ■! -inor!  Yes,  y(.u 
poison  the  very  air  1  breathe!  (io,  or,  by  all  that  '  Im-Iv,  I 
will  spring  at  your  throat  and  sirungle  you  wiih  my  bare 
hands!" 

"  Good  Heaven!"  exclaimed  the  petrified  dorfor,  retreating 
precipitately,  "  what  a  little  devil  it  i-;!  Mollie,  Mollie,  for 
pity's  sake — " 

Another  furious  stamp,  a  ppring  like  a  wild  cat  toward  him, 
and  the  aghast  doctor  was  at  the  door. 

"  There,  there,  there,  Mollie!  I'm  going.  By  Jove!  what 
a  little  fiend  you  are!  I  didn't  think  you  would  take  it  like 
this.     1 —     (Jreat  powers!     Yes,  I'm  going!" 

lie  flew  out,  closing  the  door  with  a  bang.  Then  he  opened 
it  an  inch  and  peeped  in. 

"  I'll  come  again  to-morrow,  Mollie.  Try,  for  goodness' 
sake,  to  calm  yourself  in  the  meantime.  Yes,  yes,  yes,  I'm 
going!" 

For,  with  a  shriek  of  madness,  she  made  a  spring  at  him, 
and  the  doiitor  just  mutnigod  to  slam  the  door  and  turn  tiio 
key  before  her  little,  wiry  hands  were  upon  his  throat. 

"  Great  Heaven!"  Dr.  Oleander  cried  to  hims  IT,  pale  and 
aghast,  wiping  the  cold  perspiration  oil'  his  fact';  "  wns  ever 
such  a  mad  creature  born  on  the  earth  before?  She  looked 
like  a  little  yellow-haired  demon,  glaring  upon  me  with  those 
blazing  eyes.  Little  tiger-cat!  I  told  them  she  was  a  raving 
lunatic,  and,  by  George!  she's  going  to  prove  me  a  prophet. 
It's  enough  to  make  a  man's  blood  run  cold." 


114 


TlfK     L'NSEKN    JHtlDEGUOOM. 


C'Ily\PTEi;   XVI. 

il  O  L  I,  1  K  '  8     J)  IC  S  I'  A  I  U . 

Dr.  Oi.eaxdku  desijondcnl  the  .stiiiirf,  passed  lhroiij,'h  the 
lowtM'liall,  and  eiit'ercd  th^  kitcthi'u — a  bi^',  square  room,  bleak 
and  draiij^liiy,  likt!  all  thu  rout  of  tliu  old,  rickety  place,  but 
ligiitei.l  bv  il  roarin*,'  lire. 

Old  Sally  was  bustling  about  over  pots  and  stew-pans,  get- 
ting ii-iip[i.'r;  oM  P.ti'r  stooil  at  tlie  labie  peeling  liotatooH. 
Iti  an  arm-chair  b'ifore  the  lire  sat  anotlier  old  woman  with 
sntikv-bla.'k  eyes,  hooked  nose,  and  incipient  black  mustache. 
V  was  volulily  narrating  what  liud  transpired  up- 
r,  npun  the  entrance  of  her  master. 
Oleander,  nodding  to 
the  venerable  |)ai'ty  in  the  arm-chair.     '"  iSally's  telling  you 


Old  Sa 
.stairs,  and  cut  herself  slnx 

"How  are  you,  mother?"  said  i)r 
venerable  [)ai'ty  in  the  arm-chair 
about  my  patient,  is  she?" 

His   mother's   answer   wa.i 
echoed. 

"Well,  what  now?"  demanil*'il  tlie  doctor. 

"  You  look  like  a  gliosti     (Iraciuus  me,  Oiuyl"  cried  liis 
in  consternation;    "you're  whiter  than    the  table- 


a  stifled   scream,  whicli   8ally 


molher, 
cloth." 

J)r.  Oleander  ground  tuit  an  oath. 

"  1  dare  sav  J  am.     I've  just  had  a  scare  from  that  littli 


blanch  any  man.     1  thought,  in  my 

spring   u])on   mn   like  a  panther  and 

have,  too,  by  Jove,  if  1  hadn't  cleartil 


crazy  imp  that  would 
soul,  she  wa-!  going  to 
choko  me.  She  would 
out." 

"  Lor' I"  cried  Sally,  in  consternation,  "  and  I've  just  been 
a-telling  iho  ruissis  how  sweet,  aMtl  gentle,  and  innocent,  and 
})rot.ty  she  looked. " 

"  Innocent  and  gentle  bo — iiangcdl"  growled  the  doctor. 
"  She's  the  oM  Satan  in  ft  lualo  form.  If  you  don't  look  out, 
Sally,  siij'll  throttle  you  to-morrow  when  you  go  in." 

Sally  gave  a  little  yelp  of  dismay. 

"  Lor'  a  massy,  Master  Ouy!  then  I'll  not  go  near  her.  1 
ain't  a-going  to  be  scared  out  of  my  senses  by  mad-women  in 
my  old  agt.'.  I  won't  go  into  her  room  a  step  to-morrow, 
Master  Guy.  If  you  wants  to  turn  lionest  j)0ople's  houses  into 
lunatic  asylums,  then  get  lunatic-keepers  to  see  arter  them. 
1  sha'n't  do  it,  and  so  i  tell  you." 

With  which  short  and  t  !)arp  ultimatum  Sally  began  vigor- 
ously laying  the  cloth  for  i:uppor. 


Till:    UXSEEX    jntlDKGltOUM. 


IVi 


Sully 


Boforo  Dr.  Olcaniler  couKl  open  lii.s  m  )iuU  t'>  fxpodtuluto, 
liis  inoliitM'  sli-nck  in: 

"  [  nvilly  iloii't  ihiiik  it,'s  safe  to  livo  in  (liu  lif>uso  wiUi 
such  a  vi(;K'iiL  lnn;it,i",  (!iiy.  I  wish  you  liail  taken  your  crazy 
jialii'iifc  else  where." 

"Oil,  it's  all  rifrht,  mr-fliur.  .She's  only  subject  to  thoso 
m)isy  lilH  at  periodi -al  tinns.  On  CL'rtnin  occasi.inrt  she  ap- 
pear anil  talks  as  sanelv  »,s  you  or  I.     Sally  can  tell  yon.'' 

"  That  I  can,"  Puid  hal'ly.  "  You'd  oughttT  hecrd  lior, 
mi.s.sis,  when  she  fust  i  anu!  in,  a-pl  a'ling,  you  knon-,  with  iu'J 
to  usriirft  her,  and  not  lit.'lp  to  keep  her  a  prisoner  here.  1  il(!- 
clare,  it  (jnitu  went  to  n»y  heart.  And  she  hjoLed  so  liltio, 
nnd  ao  young,  and  so  helpless',  poor  creatnrel" 

" '^'oii'ro  siiio  her  room '(3  all  safe  and  .secure,  Sally — win- 
dows and  all?" 

■'  Sire  a3  sure,  master.  Jack  the  (iiant  Iviller  couldn't  re- 
move them  'ere  bars, " 

■'  l)e(!au-<e,"  Baid  Dr.  Oleander,  "  she  is  qnito  eapal)Ie,  in 
Ikm'  mad  lits,  of  prceifiialing  liertelf  out  of  ibo  window  and 
bieakin'jf  \u',r  neck.  Ami  be  curefid,  S:d!y.  you  cut  wp  her 
fond  when  you  take  it  to  her.  J)uu't  bring  ber  any  kni\ed  or 
forks." 

"  1  saiil  T  woiddn't  go  near  h  r,"  yaid  old  Sally,  facing  him 
ropolntely;  "and  I  W'.i'tl  And  whiiCrf  more,  IVter  won't! 
And  if  you  fetches  nnid-women  here,  J)oelor  (liiy,  you've  got 
to  'tend  onto  'em  yr)u::eir,  sir.  J  vvnn't  be.  'safsynated  in  my 
old  age  by  crazy  huialicrf;  and  no  mure  my  oM  man  won't, 
neither.     There  no'.vl"' 

Sally  finished  with  a  i^liowcr  of  resolute  noils.  Dr.  Olcaiuler 
knew  iier  a  great  deal  too  well  to  remoni-!  late.  V\'iien  Sally 
"  put  her  foot  down  "  all  the  i*u\verd  of  tarih  a:ul  Jladcs 
couldn't  [)iifc  it  up  ag;*in. 

"Yon  will  bo  here  yourself  to-morrow.  Oiiv,''  f-aid  his 
mother,  dei-isively.     "  Wait  upon  her  yoursiiif,  then." 

"  15ut  I  must  return  to  N(  w  York  to-inorrou-  aflcrnoon." 

"  Very  well;  get  an  atteiutant  l'>r  your  crazy  patient  and 
send  her  down.  If  th;-  young  la  ly's  friends  are  as  •'•eallhy  as 
you  Hiiy,  they  will  surelv  let  lier  have  a  kee|)er." 

"  They  will  let  her  have  a  dozen  if  necessary;  that  is  not 
the  fpiestion." 

"  What,  then?" 

"  Have  you  aceemmonaticn  for  another  in  this  old  barn? 
Can  y  'U  put  up  with  the  trouble?" 

"  We'll  cimIi  avor  lo  da  so  f.'i-  veur  piike.  It  is  easier  to  put 
up  with  another  persion  iu  the  hou:.e  than  bo  ut  t'le  beck  uud 


116 


THE  unki;i;n  iu:n)i:(iKOOM. 


cull  o(  a  hinalio  oursolvos.  Send  ono  from  Xew  York  capable 
of  liikin;:^  euro  (^f  your  cruzy  young  lady,  uud  {Siilly  and  I  will 
take  caro  of  her." 

*'  TliankH!    And  moaiitime?" 

'*  Mtaiilinic,  I  will  wail  ii[)on  her  myself — if  you  will  assure 
me  she  will  iidL  be  violent.'" 

''  1  think  1  can.  She  is  only  violent  with  mo,  poor  soul. 
She  has  got  an  idea  into  her  weak,  deranged  little  iiead  that 
Blie  io  as  sunt!  as  you  or  1,  and  that  I  have  carried  h(.r  otf  by 
force  and  kei  p  hir  prisoner  here.  tShe  goes  raving  luad  at 
sight  of  me.  but  with  you  she  may  probably  be  cool  enough. 
Slie  will  ti'll  you  a  pituous  sfnry  of  how  hhe  luis  bc3n  entrapped 
and  carried  oil  from  h'^mts  if  you  will  listen  to  her.  You  had 
belter  no' ;  it  only  encourages  her  unfortunate  delupion." 

Mrs.  (Jiiander  fehriigg'd  h;'r  broad  f^houlders.  She  was  an 
old  woman  of  strong  mind  and  iron  resolution,  and  nothing  in 
the  way  of  heart  lo  Fpeak  of.  Jlcr  accoiu])lished  sou  took 
aflor  hiir  in  tlu'se  a'lmirable  (luulilies. 

"  I  have  olh  r  ildi  to  Try  than  listening  to  the  emjjty  babble 
of  a  miiniai'.     l\y  ihe  bye,  what  did  you  say  her  name  was?" 

"  Miss  Dane,"'  re^;})ond^■d  the  doi;tor,  after  a  slight  pause. 

lie  knew  he  migiit  as  well  tell  the  truth  about  it,  or  Mollit» 
herself  would  for  him. 

"  And  she  is  a  relative  of  Blanche's  husband?" 

"A    very   near   though    unacknowledged    relation.      And 

now,  mother  mine,  I'll  take  my  supjier  and  turn  in  if  you'll 

permit  me.     I've  had  a  very  long  and  fatiguing  drive  this 

Btormy  night." 

He  f-at  down  to  the  table  and  fell  to  work  with  an  appetite. 

Old  Sally  waited  upon  him,  and  gazed  at  hia  performance  with 

admiring  eyes. 

"  Won't  your  young  lady  want  something,  Ciuy?"  his 
mi'>ther  asked,  ptesenlly. 

"  Let  her  fast  a  little,"  replied  the  doctor,  coolly;  "  it  will 
take  some  of  I  he  unnecessary  heat  out  of  her  blood.  I'll  fetch 
her  her  breakfast  to-morrow." 

Mr.-'.  Oleander  upon  this  retired  at  once,  and  the  do  i.or, 
after  smoking  old  Peter's  pipe  iu  the  chimney-corner,  retaxd 
also. 

Then  the  old  man  hobbled  upstairs  to  bed,  and  Sally,  after 
raking  out  the  lire,  and  seeing  lo  the  secure  fastening  of  doors 
and  window-:,  took  up  her  tallow  candle  and  wcni  after  him. 

Outside  the  door  of  the  poor  little  captive  she  paused,  listen- 
ing in  a  Bort  of  breathless  awe.     But  no  sound  came  forth-' 


tut;     IKSFFN    BRIDKHROOM. 


117 


i\w  tumult  of  wind,  ami  sea,  and  rain  liail  (ho  inky  night  ail 
to  tilt  m.solvcH. 

"  Slio's  a-ihcp,  I  reck'in,"  Paul  oh\  Sullv,  creeping;  away, 
"  Po'.r  lit  lie.  |.ntty  croittr:" 

lint  M  'lliL'  was  nut  ask'  p.  Vt'Iicn  Iho  dnnr  ha]  doffd  after 
Dr.  Olruinicr,  Aw.  hail  dnpped  on  iho  llooi  like  a  j-toue,  and 
lia  1  nuver  slirre.l  kIiici'. 

Shr>  win  iiol:  in  a  fainK  She  -"nw  the  ruldy  blaze  of  the  fire, 
as  thti  toii/^MK.'s  of  llanio  leaped  liivo  rod  soiponts  up  the  cliiin- 
)i('y;  she  luard  the  wil  1  howlincj  of  the  niudit  wind,  l,ho  cease- 
less da-h  and  fidl  of  the  rain,  the  ind'MTihahle  rf^ar  of  (he 
ra;,dng  S'a;  .she  hoard  (ho  trees  crnik  arid  tons  and  {.'foan;  n\\o 
lieard  tho  ra(3  8(!iin'ipering  overhead;  she  heard  the  dismal 
iHoanln;^  of  th:-  eld  UmiAtj  iiscdf  roekinf:  in  th.-  ,u:ale. 

8lie  saw,  i-:he  h'-aid,  hut  asi  one  who  neither  seec<  nor  hears; 
like  one  in  a  driiiri^ed,  unnatural  ttujior.  Hiit^  citnl;!  not 
thiidv;  an  irr.'n  haiui  seem' d  t)  have  (lulchcd  her  heart,  a 
dreadfid  d'spair  (o  have  taken  pos.-'i  8'^i.)n  of  h;  r.  Shu  had 
mule  a  hornhio,  irre[)araldo  mistake;  she  was  holy  and  soul 
in  the  po.ver  of  'ho  man  siie  hatul  most  on  carih.  .She  was 
his  wii'el — she  could  ^'et  no  further  tlian  (hat. 

Tlie  stormy  niijjiit  wt.re  on;  mi.liiij:ht  came  and  the  elo- 
mcntal  uprcar  was  at  its  heiirht.  Slill  ^he  lay  there  all  in  a 
hea[».  sulUrir.g  in  a  dulled,  iniserahle  way  that  was  wovs^^  than 
slia>'i'e.-t  jiaiii.  She  lay  there  sLunneu,  overwiulmed,  not 
caring  if  she  ever  rose  again. 

And  8.)  morning  found  her — when  morinng  Ifled  a  didl  und 
leaden  eye  over  the  st;)rra\'  s(  a.  It  eamo  giotiuiy  and  gray, 
rain  falling  still,  wind  whisjiering  pitifidly,  and  a  sky  of  lead 
frowning  di)wn  upon  tho  drenched,  dank  eaiih  and  tossing, 
angry  ocean. 

All  ill  a  heap,  as  she  had  fallen,  Mollie  lay,  her  head  resting 
on  a  I'hair,  her  ^JOor  golden  ringlets  tosst  d  in  a  wiM,  disheveled 
vi:il,  fast  asleep.  Pitifully,  as  sleep  will  come  to  tlio  young, 
ho  their  troubles  ever  so  heavy,  sleep  had  sealed  those  beaming 
blue  eye^.  "not  used  to  tears  at  ni'_dit  instead  of  siumber. "' 
'I'ears,  .\r.">llio  had  shed  none — the  blow  that  had  fallen  had 
left  her  far  beyond  that. 

Nine  o'clook  struck;  there  was  a  tap  at  the  prison  door. 
l*r.  ()lea!ider,  thinking  his  pa  ,\;n<,'s  far:  had  lasted  long 
tnougli,  wai!  coming  with  u  bountif(d  brei'.kfast.  There  was 
no  repl\  to  tlie  tap. 

"M.dli',"  (ho  doctor  called,  gently,  "it  is  I  with  your 
breakfast.     I  am  coming  in." 


118 


TTfF   UXRFEX   r.r.iDFonooM. 


Slill  110  rospoiisc.  Ho  turned  the  key  iti  tli-^  lock,  opcnctl 
the  «lo')f  uml  ontered. 

Wlmfc  liL!  had  oxpoc'l(\1,  Dr.  OIc'IImUt  did  not  know;  ho  was 
inn  littlo  tremor  :ill  <ivu-.  W'liut  Iiy  i-iiw  \v;is  hid  jioi.r  liiLlo 
priaonor  (Toiu'hed  on  tin!  Ihor,  lior  fiii-e  falhsn  on  a  chair,  hiilt 
hidden  hy  the  shov,-i:i'  (,f  ftn;!)i'.)-  cuvU,  sl':('[)ini(  like  u  verv  hid)';. 

The  liurdcncd  luiin  Ciui;;lit  hi,?  hrciiHi;  it  was  h  wigliL  lo 
touch  any  liHirt;  jjorlitips  it  evoii  found  iti  wi\y  to  his. 

lie  stood  aT)d  look'.  1  nt  iior  u  niotnont,  his  oves  getting  hu- 
mid, and  .-^ofLly  set  down  hits  tmy. 

'•  '  Tho  Sleojiinu'  Heauly,' "  ho  sai-l.  unihM*  his  hroath. 
"What  an  i'x<|insii,!  piilmo  she  makv.-;!  iMy  ]>oor  little, 
pretty  little  .MullicI'' 

III!  had  niado  scarcely  any  noi>?o;  ho  stood  gazing  at  her 
spcU-boiinl;  but  that  very  gaze  awoke  h^'r. 

.She  IhiUcrcd  like  a  bird  in  ita  iic^t,  luiirniund  indistinctly, 
hor  eveliils  (juiveiod  a  Ktcond,  then  the  blue  eyes  op'.'ned  wide, 
and  diruclly  ishe  was  v/i'lu  au'akc. 

*' (I'uod-n.'^rning,  IdoUJc,"  said  the  doctor 
awoko  yo'.i,  and  you  wcro  shcpiiig 
no  idea  lue.v  lively  you  look  asleep, 
fortabhi  pli'.(!o,  my  ikar  one.     Vv'h; 
u  rpasoiud>le  beinji?" 

jMoilic  ro.su  slortly  and  ga(iif3rcd  away  hur  fallen  hair  from 
lier  f ace.  Her  cheeks  were  JliiMhed  pink  with  skc}),  hor  cyi;s 
were  calm  and  steadfaib,  full  or  invincible  icsolution.  Sho 
sat  down  in  the  chair  she  had  u:-=cd  fur  a  pillow,  and  looked  at 
him  stia.lily. 

"  You  may  take  that  away,  1  uctor  Oleander,"  she  said- 
'*  I  will  neither  eat  nor  dritdc  under  this  loof." 

"Oh,  nonsen.se,  Molliel"  said  thn  d'Mtor,  in  no  way 
alarmed  by  this  threat;  "  yes,  you  will.  Look  at  this  but- 
tered toa:5t,  at  these  eggs,  at  this  ham,  at  these  })reserves, 
raspberry  jam.  Mollie — *  sweets  to  the  sweet,'  you  know — 
look  at  llieni  and  you'll  thiuiv  bel'tcr  of  it." 

She  tnrticd  her  back  upon  him  in  bitter  dit'dain. 

"  MoUie,"  the  do(;tor  raid,  beseech ingly^,  "don't  be  so  ob- 
stinately set  against  mo.  Yon  weren't,  you  know,  until  I  re- 
moved my  disguiri,\     I'm  no  worse  now  than  1  was  before." 

"  I  never  thought  it  was  you,"  iMoIlio  said,  in  a  voice  of 
still  dccspair. 

"  Oh,  ycH,  you  did.  You  dreaded  it  was  me — you  hoped  it 
was  that  ])U[)])y,  Ingelow,  ooi\foimd  himi  Why,  Mollie,  he 
doesn't  care  for  you  one  tithe  of  what  T  do,     {See  what  I  have 


I'm  afraid  I 
111  <'  an  angel.     \t>u  liavo 
init  oueh  a  very  uncom- 
di  In't  you  go  to  bed  liko 


THR    I'NSKKN    inmiKOKOO.Nf. 


II!) 


0(1 


lior 


risl\((l  fur  you — irjiutiiLion,  liberty,  evcrytliirif^  tliut  luuii  holiis 
(I I ■;»!•. " 

"Ami  yi'ii  ;;li;ill  l(».u!  Ihiin  y(t,"M<'!!Io  eaicl,  bt'lweeii  li.  r 

cilliclll'll    iClUl. 

"  I  Iiavo  Tiiiulc  diysclf  ii  f(l(;ii  to  obtulri  you,  Mnllii>,  1  jijvo 
V'Mi  bt.'UiM'  lliiin  iMy.-ilf — tb;iii  aTiyMiiii;„'  in  tliu  world.  \'<iii 
;.ro  my  vviff — bo  my  \:\>'\  and  for^'ivo  iin'. " 

"  Nevcrl*'  uri'.'il  Mollic.  iiaHsioiuitcIv,  nii  ^in^r  lior  arm  u'^l't 
will)  a  gCftiiro  wifitliv  rif  ISiiidori.s  or  l.';'tori:  '*  jkhv  I  m  vcr  bi- 
f(>r<^'iv(Mi  wlkii  I  ili"  if  1  Mi'I  1  coidd  kill  yon  tiii*  nmianit,  in 
J  Wdiild  a  r.it,  ii'  I  Imij  ir  i'l  my  {lowLr.  and  willi  a-'  bifli'  n.ni- 
prHuitioii.  J  litito  you — I  biuu  yii — I  b  du  yuiil  lluiv  1  lialu 
yon  words  an;  too  po(  r  ami  weak  to  ti  11!"* 

**  Of  ('onr.stt,"  raid  thu  dactor,  wiih  inilii.blo  eidin:  "  ii.'rf 
iH'rfictly  iial.ii'al  jn.--,t  niuv.  I'tit  von"Jl  ;:  '..  ovi'r  i^  M'dlic, 
L(.diov(i  nie  yon  will,  and  bkf  ni'.'  all  tin'  bi  tier  by  and  I'V. " 

"  Will  yon  '^'>y  ^'ail!  Moiiic.  ju-r  oyis  bi\^';innini,'  to  biaxi-. 

"  J^isli'ii  to  me  lirat,"  raid  tlu'  doi'i(n',  carni'stly.  '*  Li.steti 
to  me,  I  im|iloro  you,  Molliol  I  havo  taken  a  danjieroiis  step 
in  fctchiinj;  yon  Ihto — in  (narnin;^  yon  a-;  1  did;  my  vi-iy  life 
is  at  slake.  l)o  yon  tliink  I  will  i^rick  at  trilJL'.s  lunv?  .\o. 
Ton  must  either  retnrn  to  Nnv  "hOik  as  my  wife,  (peniy 
afdvnowled;;inj^  yonr.-:eir  snuli,  or — never  return.  Wait — wait, 
Mollie!  J)()n't  interrnjM.  "^'ou  af,>  altoj^'etlier  in  my  power. 
If  you  were  hidden  in  a  diuii'eon  of  the  Fremh  Tastiie  yon 
oonld  ii'tt  bi'  more  fie(Uiro  or  .suelmled  tlniu  here.  'I'liere  ix  no 
hon-e  within  iivi'  miles;  Hu're  's  tiiL-  \\iU\  sea,  liie  wild  wo-ids, 
a  streteh  of  Hat,  barren,  mariihy  .'ea-tioast — nolhiii<^'  more.  No 
one  ever  eumi.'S  hero  by  water  or  !a!id.  There  aro  ir.m  lai.s 
to  thuse  windows,  un<l  the  windo'.vs  afe  iilLiiti  fci-t  from  the 
ground.  The  people  in  this  housu  think  you  nuid — the  more 
yini  tell  them  to  the  contrary  the  less  thev  will  belie\e  ytni. 
In  Xew  York  they  have  not  the  slightest  elaw  to  your  whe'e- 
abonts.  You  vani.~hcd  oneu  before  and  came  back — they  will 
set  tills  down  tis  u  .-imilar  triek.  and  net  trouble  themselves 
about  yon.  "^'on  are  mine,  ."Mo'lie,  mine — initio!  There  is  no 
ultcuMiativo  in  the  wide  earth." 

Dr.  Oleander's  I'aoe  liushed  with  triumph,  his  voieo  rang 
out  exulliint.ly,  his  form  seemed  to  tower  with  victory,  his  eyes 
Hushed  like  bmning  coals.     Jle  made  one  step  toward  her. 

"  Mine,  .MoMie;  miite  yon  have  been,  mine  you  will  be  for 
life.     'JMie  gotls  have  willed  it  so,  Mollie — my  wife!*' 

Another  st.ep  nearer,  triumphant,  \ietoriuus,  then  Molli*' 
lifted  her  iirm  with  a  cjuuonly  gocsture  and  uttered  one  word: 

"  tttop!" 


1:^0 


THE    IKSEEN'    BJIIDEGUOOM. 


She  was  standing  by  the  mantel,  druwn  up  to  hor  fuU 
heiglit,  iier  fucc  whiLcr  than  suovv,  rigid  as  maiblo,  but;  the 
blue  eyes  bhizing  blue  f'uiLa. 

"  Bark,  DiH'ioi-  OiL-aiuleil  Not  one  step  nOiiror  if  you  value 
your  jifel"  Sh(;  put  hvv  hand  in  her  bod  'Ui  and  drew  uut  a 
glittering  phiylhing — a  curiouH  dagger  of  foreign  workmaiiKship 
she  had  oneo  t;»kcn  from  Carl  Wulfaven.  "  lief  ore  I  lt;fh 
home,  Dootor  Oli-andtM*,  I  took  this.  1  did  not  expect  to  have 
to  use  it,  but  I  look  it.  Look  at  it;  see  its  bine,  koen  glitter. 
It  is  a  pretty  littlo  ti^y,  but  it  ])i'oves  you  a  I'altu  boaster  and  a 
liar!     It,  itavcs  mc  on(^  alterinitivc — death!" 

"Mollie!     For  (iod's  sake!" 

There  was  that  in  the  girl's  white,  rigid  face  that  frightened 
the  strong  man.  lie  recoiled  and  looked  at  the  littlo  llashing 
serpent  witli  horror. 

"  I  have  listcMied  to  yon,  l)octr>r  (luy  Oleander,"  gaid  Mollie 
Dane,  sinwlv,  solemnly;  "  now  listen  to  me.  All  you  t-'ay  may 
be  true,  but  youis  I  never  will  be — never,  never,  never!  Be- 
fore you  can  lay  one  llng'.'r  on  me  this  knife  can  reach  my 
heart  or  yours.  I  don't  niiieh  care  v.'iuch,  but  yours  if  I  can. 
If  I  am  your  wife,  as  vou  say,  the  sooner  I  am  dead  the  bet- 
ter." 

"  Mollio.  for  Heaven's  sake—" 

But  Mollie,  like  a  tiagedy  queen,  waved  her  hand  and  in- 
terrupted him: 

'•  They  say  life  is  sweet — 1  suppose  it  is — but  if  1  am  your 
wife  1  have  no  desire  to  live,  unless,  indeed,  to  bo  revtaiged  on 
you.  Tut  a  dose  of  arsenii;  in  yonder  cotree-cup  and  give  me 
the  draught.     I  will  drink  it." 

Dv.  Oleander  "  grinned  horribly  a  ghastly  smile." 

I  had   nuuh  rather  give  you  a  love-philter,  Mollie,"  Ik 


said,  recovering  from  his  iirst  scare. 


Unhiippilv,  the  aa"e  of 


love-philters  seems  to  have  passed.  And  now  I  will  have  you 
lor  the  p  I'Seiit— -time  v\i!!  work  wondeis,  1  think.  I  mutt  p:o 
back  to  Xew  York;  no  one.  mil 4  sus[)eet  I  have  left  it  for  an 
hour.  I  win  return  in  a  day  or  two,  and  by  that  lime  I  trufit 
you  will  no  longer  be  in  suidi  a  reckless  frame  of  mind.  1 
don't  want  you  to  die  by  any  means;  you  are  a  great  deal  tor* 
pretty  and  pitpiaut,  and  I  l'*ve  you  far  too  well.  Good-bye, 
my  spirited  lilMe  wifi ,  fi/r  a  couple  of  days." 

He  bowed  low  and  h'ft  the  r(>"m,  locking  the  door  carc- 
fidly.  And  when  he  was  gone  Mollie  drooped  at  once,  lean- 
ing Hgainst  the  mantel,  Male  ami  trembling,  her  bauds  o.er 
her  face — abno  with  her  aespair. 


THE    UNSEEN    IIRIDEGROOM. 


in 


lay 
can. 
bet- 


I 


I 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

5ITHIAM    TO    THE    IM-SCUE. 

An  artist  stood  in  liis  st  mlio,  overlooking  busy,  bright  Urood- 
way.  ihi  stond  befiire  his  eiist-l,  fra/.ntg  in  a  sort  of  raptmo 
fit  his  own  wnvk.  It  wan  oidy  a  i^ki't(  h,  n  sketch  worlhy  of  a 
master,  and  its  nam"  \va,s  "  Th(!  IJo-e  IW  fore  It  Bloomed." 
A  gii'l's  briglii,  sweet  face,  hioking  out  of  a  golihMi  aureole  of 
wild,  loo«e  iiair;  a  pair  of  Iif|uid,  starrv,  aziiie  eye.s;  a  mouth 
like  a  nsebiid,  half  pouting,  half  smiling.  An  exrjuisite  faoo 
— rosy,  dimpled,  youliiful  as  Hebe's  own — the  radiant  face  of 
Mdllie  Dane. 

'i'he  dav  wh3  near  its  c]o:-o,  and  was  dying  in  regal  Bplondor. 
All  dav  the  dark,  drea-^y  rain  had  failir)  wearily,  ceaselessly; 
but  just  as  twilight,  ghostly  and  griiy,  was  creeping  tip  from 
the  horizon,  there  had  Hashed  out  a  sudden  sunbur^^t  of  inde- 
scribable glory. 

The  heavens  seemed  to  open,  and  a  glimpse  of  paradise  to 
show,  so  grand  and  glorious  wiis  the  orillaiiiuie  of  crimson  and 
purple  and  orange  and  gold  that  transfigin-ed  the  whole  tirma- 
ment. 

A  lurid  light  filled  the  studio,  and  turned  tlie  floating  yellow 
liair  of  the  picture  to  living,  burnished  rip[iU"?  of  gold. 

"  It  is  Alullie — livinp,  breathing,  lovely  iMoilie!"  tho  ai'tist 
said  to  hini-ii'lf  in  suihli'U  exidtulion — "  beaiitifiil,  buwildiing 
MollicI  Fit  to  sit  by  a  king's  side  and  wear  his  crown.  (Jome 
in!" 

l-'or  a  tap  at  the  studio  door  suddenly  brour^dit  our  enthusi- 
astic artist  back  to  earth.  He  Hung  a  cloth  over  the  sketcii, 
and  leanel  gra'efully  against  the  ciis'd. 

The  liguie  that  entered  somewhat  disturbed  the  young 
man's  constitutiotial  {)hlegm — it  was  so  uidike  his  usual  run 
of  visitors — a  rt-markaMe  ligure,  tall,  gau!\t,  and  b'lny,  clad 
in  wretched  garb;  a  haggard,  powerful  face,  weather-beaten 
and  brown,  and  two  biiizing  biaiik  eyes. 

The  artist  opened  his  own  })andsomo  orbs  to  their  widest 
oxterit. 

"  J  wish  to  so  ivlr.  Hugh  Ingclow,''  said  this  singular 
wnnnui  in  n  de  f>  h;iss  voieo. 

"  I  am  Hugh  [ngi'low,  madani;\  at  your  service." 

The  woman  fixed  !ier  buiiiing  eyes  on  tho  calm,  serenely 
handsome  face.  TL'j  lazy  hazel  eyes  of  tho  artist  mot  hers 
coolly,  unflinchingly. 


i;?2 


THE    UNSEEN"    IJRIDEnROOM. 


"  ]  nwivt  j'onr  pleasure,  maflame.  Will  you  enter  and  sit 
down!-"" 

'I'he  woni:iii  came  in,  clcsed  tlie  door  ciuitioiusly  after  lior, 
but  declined  the  jirolTered  c^eat. 

"  To  what  am  1  indebted  for  the  honor  of  this  visit?"  ft.^kcd 
the  artist,  quietlv.  "  I  have  not  tiie  phtasure  of  kiiowin;:^ 
you." 

"  1  am  ]\rollie  Dane's  aunt." 

"  Ah,  indeevil"  and  I^Ir.  iru;,rh  Jnjrelow  lifrlited  up,  for  the 
first  time,  with  sonjelhin^'  like  hiinum  intenst.  "  Ves,  yes; 
I  remember  you  now.  You  ouino  to  Mr.  Carl  Walraven's 
weiklin!'  and  irave  us  a  little  loiii h  of  iiiuh  traireiJy.  J'rav 
gir,  dou'ii.  ami  tell  me  what  f  can  do  for  yuu." 

"  I  don't  want  to  sit.  I  want  vou  to  answer  me  a  qnes' 
tion. " 

''  One  hundred,  if  you  like." 

"  J)o  you  know  where  Mnllic  Dare  is?" 

"  Kot"  exactly,"  taid  Mr.  Jn>',' low,  coolly.  "I'm  7iot 
blessed,  unfortunatuly,  with  the  j:dt  of  the  fairy  jirincc  in  tho 
child's  tale.  ]  can't  sec  my  friends  throu;di  walls  of  stono 
and  mortar;  but  1  take  it  she  is  at  the  jtalutial  mansion  up- 
towii  "' 

"Sh."  is  not!" 

"  Ell?" 

"  She  is  noti"  reiterated  M'riani.  "  I  have  just  been 
there.  They  are  in  t!ie  utmo>t  ah'.rm  and  distress — at  ]e;ist, 
Mr.  Walraven  aiipears  to  be.     iMollie  has  again  disa})peared." 

"  J'.y  J.'iV'  I"  cried  ^Ir.  IiifX'dow.  in  dismay. 

"  She  left  the  house  late  last  ni<fht.  One  of  the  servants,  it 
:^;)pears,  saw  her  p;o,  and  she  lias  never  been  heani  of  or  seen 
tiince." 

*'  By  .lovel"  for  the  second  time  exclaimed  Ifu^di  Inf,'elov,'. 

"  li  is  supposed  that  she  has  met  with  foul  play — been  in- 
veigled away  from  home,  and  is  in  tlio  i)avver  of  a  villain." 

'*  Well,"  said  .Mr.  Iri^ndow,  dniwin^'  a  long  breath,  "]i[is  = 
Dane  has  tlu;  j^rcati'st  kmudv  of  eausing  sen.^alions  d  any  lady 
1  ever  knew.  I'ray,  are  you  aware  this  is  the  .'-eeoid  time 
till  !i  a  thing  iia.i  hapiK'md?" 

"  J  am  (luite  awaiu  of  it.  Alsa,  tliat  slie  \vi. nt  {:gainid,  her 
will." 

"  Indeed  I  Heing  so  ne;i,r  a  relativ(!,  it  is  natural  you  jiiould 
be  posted.  And  now,  may  I  beg  to  know,''  t^aid  tho  young 
man,  with  cool  politeness,  "  why  you  do  me  the  honor  to  come 
and  inform  mo?" 


THE    UN.-ET-N'    ]!];T^Ff;^.On^r. 


vrs 


hv.v 


Miiiam  looked  at  liim  vith  her  esigle  ^lanco — keen,  siile- 
long,  scaifhiiip;.     Mr.  liipii'loiv  nmov.  her  a  -slight  bow. 

"  Well,  niiihimei-"'  .'■•iniliiif^  ciirelessly. 

"  Do  you  not  know?"' 

"  ly" — a  b'oad  Hare.  "  Ijcally,  nuulame,  f  am  at  a  loss — 
How  shouM  1  know?" 

*'  DiJ  yon  not  jiieet  iVIollie  last  night  at  the  eorncr  of 
Broadway  ami  Fonrtcnith  Street?" 

"  xMo!-t  cei'lainly  nol."' 

**  \Vh(;ro  were  you  at  teji  o'clock  last  evening?" 

Again  Mr.  Ingelow  .sniileil. 

"  Jiciilly,  a  iiikii.g  enrfs-exatniiiation.  ]*erniit  me  to  de- 
cline answeriiiL!'  that  (ineslion." 

"  And  you  know  notiiing  of  .Moiiie's  previous  disappearance 
— of  that  myslv  riiMn  J'o)'tnight?" 

"  I\Iy  good  wonia!),  he  reari/'nable.  I'm  nrt  an  astrologer, 
nor  a  wizuid,  n -r  y.t  a  chi'rvoyant.  I'm  not  in  .^^i^s  Dane's 
coniiii'.ni';'.     I  [)nt  it  (o  yourself — how  should  1  know?" 

"  Von  rflinfile — yoii  e<jHivooal-eI"  cried  Miriam,  im)).'i,tiently. 
"  Why  uo\i'i  yo'.i  iinswi;r  at  once — yos  or  no?" 

'' .\iy  li' ar  liiuy,"  wiiji  a  diprocating  wave  of  his  shapely 
hami,  "don't  be  so  druadfully  blunt.  Prav  tell  nie  of  what 
yoa  atousi'  me— of  forcibly  abil acting  Miss  Dane  hirt  idglit  at 
ten  o'clock?  Willi  my  hand  on  my  heart,  mailame,  on  the 
word  ill  a  man  and  l)roihcr— on  the  honor  of  an  artidt — I 
.^'jh'tnnlv  as.~-''Veralo  I  didn't  <lo  itl" 

Miriam  gioaned. 

"  'I'hen  what  ha:^  bcoomo  of  lind.  unfortunate  child?  '3he 
thouu'ht  it  wa.-i  yon,  or  slui  never  wonlil  have  gone." 

'i'iio  fair,  relined  faoo  of  tlie  artist  Hushed  deep  red,  and  he 
was  grave  in  an  indaid. 

"  Madam'-,  what  do  yon  t:iy?" 

"()h,  you  kniiwl"  criid  the  woman,  vehemcidly.  "  ^'ou 
surely  know,  else  all  you  men  are  blinder  than  bats.  You 
know  she  loved  you  well." 

"  Oh,  madamel" 

Tilt)  young  man  ("amdit  his  bi(  .ith. 

'*  She  told  me  so  h  rs;!f,"  criitl  Miriuin,  reeklesslv  hctray- 
iiv:  this,  and  wringing  hei-  hun.l  ;  "  and  she  went  last  night, 
li.'ping  it  was  you." 

'I'liu  momentary  e.vpression  of  raptiu'e  had  quite  faded  out 
of  Mr.  Jngelow's  fiiee  by  th's  time,  and,  leaning  against  his 
easel,  ho  was  listening  with  cool  atteniion.  I'lit  if  .Miriam 
cold  I  have  known  how  this  unin'cJ  in  art  was  plunging  agaiuo' 
His  ribs! 


124 


THK    UNSEEN    nniDFIGUOOM. 


"  I  think  there  is  a  mistake  sonieivhere,"  said  Hugh,  with 
sang-frtiirL     "  Mi-s  Dune  ri'fnseil  me." 

"iiuhl"  saiil  Miriam,  with  infinite  smni;  "  mm  h  you 
know  of  women,  to  lalie  that,  f  tr  a  tt'8t!  I!ut  it  isn't,  i.)  iaik 
of  lovp  I  camo  h(!"f.  1  am  iialf  ilistracti'il.  'I'li,'  (  hilii  has 
met;  with  foul  p'a''  ^  '^"'  tJuiiain,  since  yn\  are  hi'i-e. " 

"  Will  yon  hiivi.'  i.lu'  an  'tin. ss  to  explain,  luy  irood  wrnian," 
said  Mr.  Inuel.-'.\',  beseechingly.  "  CunoiJcr,  1  am  all  in  the 
dark." 

"  And  I  cnn  not  enlighten  von  witliont  telling  yon  the 
whole  story,  and  if  yon  are  not  the  hero  of  it,  I  havf;  ii*  right, 
and  no  wish,  *o  do  that.  One  fjiierition  I  will  ask  yon,"  iixin/; 
her  powerful  ';yes  on  his  faeo:  "  i)oyon  still  love  Mojlie  JJane?" 

Mr.  Ingelow  smiled  serene  lu  the  snnset  t;ky  ()iit.<i(]e. 

"  A  point-blank  ([ueslioii.  Forgive  mo  if  1  deeiuie  answei- 
ing  it.' 

Miriam's  eves  flashed  fire. 

"  You  never  eared  for  her!"  she  said,  in  (loree  impatience. 
'*  Yoa  are  i  poltroon  and  a  earpet-kniglit,  like  the  rest — ready 
with  plenty  of  fine  words,  and  nothing  else!  Yon  asked  her 
to  marry  you,  and  you  don't  care  whether  she  is  living  or 
dead!" 

"  Why  should  I?"  said  Mr.  Ingelow,  coolly.  "  She  refused 
to  marry  mo. " 

"  And  with  a  Highly  girl's  refusal  your  profotnid,  and 
lasting,  and  all-enduru:g  luve  dies  out,  like  a  di[)-oaiidle  nnder 
an  extin,^uisher!  Oh,  you  are  idl  alike— all  alike!  Selfish, 
and  mean,  and  cruel,  and  false,  and  llcklo  to  the  very  heart's 
core!" 

"  Ha 'd  words,"  said  Mr.  Tngelow,  with  infinite  calm. 
"  You  make  sweeping  assertions,  madame,  bnt  there  is  just  a 
possibil  ty  of  your  being  mistaken,  after  all." 

"  VA'ords,  words,  words!"  Miiiara  cried,  bitterly.  "  Words 
in  plen  ,y,  but  no  actions!  I  wi.di  my  tongue  had  been  palsied 
ere  I  uitored  what  i  have  uttered  wiihin  this  h  ur!" 

"  Mj'  dear  madame,  softly,  softly!  i'lay,  pray  do  not  he  so 
impetu)us!  Don't  jump  at  sueli  frantic  conehisionsl  I  assure 
you,  m/  words  are  not  empty  sound.  1  mean  'em,  every  one. 
I'll  do  mything  in  reason  for  yon  or  yonr  charming  ?iiece. " 

"In  reason!"  said  the  woman,  with  a  scornful  laugh. 
"  Oh,  10  donbt!  You'll  take  exceeding  g'  od  care  (o  bo  calm 
and  rersonable,  and  weigh  the  pros  and  cons,  and  not  get 
yoursell  into  trouble  to  deliver  ihe  girl  you  wanted  to  raaiTy 
the  oth(^r  day  from  captivity — fri»m  dcat,h,  perhap?!  She  ro- 
fused  you,  and  that  is  (juite  sulhcient." 


THE    UNSEEN    liRIl'EfiKOOM. 


125 


I'm 
Tell 

"I 


"Now.  novvl"  cried  Mr.  Irgtlow.  appealing  to  tho  lour 
walls  in  dt-  iieiution.  "  Ditl  over  uioiial  man  bear  the  like  of 
thib?  Cuptiviiy — dralhl  ily  ^ood  woman — my  dear  lady — 
Olin't  you  draw  it  a  littie  mildfcr?  Is  not  this  New  York  City? 
And  are  we  not  in  thu  year  of  grace  eighteen  hundred  and 
ninety?  Pray,  d( n't  go  back  to  the  Dark  Ages,  when  loverH 
went  clad  in  clanking  puits  of  mail,  and  forcibly  «'arried  olV 
brides  from  tlie  altar,  under  the  priLbt's  very  nose,  a  la  Young 
Locbinvar.     iJo  be  reasonable,  ibere's  a  good  soul!" 

Miriam  turned  her  back  upon  him  in  8iiperb  dirfdain. 

"  And  this  is  the  man  Moliie  pn  feriedl  This  is  the  man  1 
thought  would  help  mel  Mr.  Hugh  lugelow,  I  wish  you 
good -evening." 

"  Ko,  no!"   exclaimed  Mr,  Irgtiow,  starting  up.      "  Not 
yet!     Open   the   my.stt  ries  a  littji    before   you   depart, 
willing  and  ready  to  aid  you  to  the  best  of  my  ability, 
me  what  I'm  to  do,  and  I'll  do  it." 

"  I  have   nothing   tc  tell,"  Miriam  said,  steadfastly, 
will  not  put  you  to  the  trouljle  di  helping  me." 

"But  you  muot!"  cried  the  artist,  suddenly  transforming 
himself  into  u  new  man.  "  if  Moliie  Dane  is  really  in  dan- 
ger, then  1  must  know,  and  ail  her.  No  one  has  a  better 
right,  for  no  one  on  earth  loves  ber  as  well  as  I  do." 

"  lla!"  exilaimcd  Miriam.  st(jiping  short.  "We  have  it 
at  lasi,  have  we?     You  love  lier,  then?" 

"  With  all  my  heart,  and  mind,  and  strength:  as  1  never 
have  loved,  and  inner  wid  h.'ve,  any  other  earthly  creature. 
Now,  then,  sit  down  here  and  tell  me,  from  liist  to  last,  what 
you  came  here  to  tell." 

He  wheeled  forward  a  (hair,  took  tho  woman  by  both 
shoulders,  and  compelled  her  to  bu  cijafed.  His  face  was  very 
pale,  his  eyes  alight,  his  statuesque  mouth  stern,  and  set,  and 
j)oweiful. 

Miriam  looked  at  liim  with  dawning  admiration  and  respect 
Tho  man  that  makes  them  obey  is  the  man  women  are  pretty 
safe  to  adore. 

"  Now,  then,"  he  said — "  now,  Madame  Miriam,  I  want 
you  to  begin  at  the  begimiitig  and  lell  me  alL  If  Moliie  Dane 
is  above  ground,  I  will  find  ber." 

The  woman  looked  up  in  hi-'  handsome  fare,  locked  in  grim, 
intlexible  ririolution — an  iron  face  now — and  iilaxed. 

"  Moliie  was  not  dec  ived  in  you,  after  all.  I  am  glad  of 
it.  I  like  you.  I  would  give  a  year  of  my  life  to  see  you 
safely  her  hu.sband." 

"  Many  thanks!    Pity  she  is  not  of  the  same  miudi" 


2-^6 


THK    LNS1»EN    ]iKIl)K(iKUO:.f. 


"  Girls  (liaiigf.  Yuu  aevcr  lu-ikcil  her  but  once.  Suppose 
you  try  iigiiiii.  You  are  young  onoiufh  aiiu  IhiikLsdiuu  (-noij;^'!! 
to  win  uliniusoevur  you  plctiiie. " 

"  \'ou  iiro  (,iiiin])Iii!it'iit;uy.  Siijiposo  wo  leave  all  t.lint  luid 
■[ir'^cood  to  liu.-iineia.  Ttjll  uie  uhuovou  luiow  of  Mi;;.i  lUuie'^ 
abduct  ion." 

llti  seatv,(l  liiiiis  If  lici^re  her  and  Wiiiieii,  his  eyes  iixod 
gravely  on  her  faee. 

"  To  in. ike  \\ li.it  1  have  to  t-say  iiitoUigible,'' said  Aliriani, 
"  it  is  accessary  to  give  you  an  iusiyht  into  the  mystery  of  lier 
]>revious  evani.hiuent.  She  was  trii;ked  away  b,'  arliiiee,  v.-.v- 
jied  oil  and  f')r(ibly  lield  a  j)risoner  by  a  man  whose  ma^iked 
face  she  never  fcaw. '' 

"  Jnipossiblel  Mr.  Walravon  told  me.,  told  every  one,  fcho 
was  uith  yi'U. " 

"  Very  likely.  Also,  that  I  was  dying  or  (had.  'riie  (»no 
part  is  a',  true  as  the  other  iMt)!iie  never  was  mav  nje.  .Siie 
was  foreibly  detained  by  this  unknown  man  for  a  fortnighf. 
then  bi'ouglit.  lume.  yi\e  told  me  the  story,  and  also  who  she 
Kuspecleu  that  man  to  be.'' 

"  Wiio?" 

Miriani  looked  iit  him  (3uriously. 
Jiootor  (iuy  Oieandor,  or — you  I" 
Ah,  you  jest,  niiidamel"  ha,ughtily. 

"  I  ih)  not.  She  was  n)i:-takcn.  it  appears,  but  she  really 
thought  it  might  be  you.  To  make  sure,  hhe  found  means  at 
eommiiiiii  ui.i;ig  with  this  f-'iange  man,  and  a  mi'eting  wa^  ap- 
pointed fi»r  la.st  nigjit,  tin  o'cloek,  ei^rner  of  liroadway  and 
Fourteenth  Sirort." 

"Y»*^1:     Weil?" 

"  Mollie  went,  b'tiil  thiid^iiig — jierhaiis  1  should  f'uy  h<)})ing 
—it  might  be  you,  Mr.  Ligilow:  and  I,  too,  was  there." 

"  Weil?" 

"  Mollio  did  not  see  me.  I  hovered  idoof.  It  was  otdy 
half  past  nine  when  she  fame— half  an  hour  too  early— but 
already  a  earriage  was  waiting,  a.nd  a  man,  disguii'od  in  hat 
and  el'^ak  and  Jlowing  binrd,  stepfied  forward  and  accosted  her 
at  oii(-e.  'W'lial-  ho  said  to  her  i  oon't  knoW;  but  he  jiersuadid 
her,  cviik'ntiy  with  reluetanee,  to  enter  the  carriage  with  him. 
The  lain  was  pouring.  I  suppose  that  was  why  she  went,  in 
a  moment  the,  c  (ia<  hman  had  v.hi2»p!  d  up  the  horses,  and  they 
Vfvrii  otr  like  a  Hash." 

]\lii'iam  iituibed.  Mr.  Ingelow  sat  t.tariug  at  her  with  a  faeo 
of  pule  amaze. 


THE    UXSELN'    TiniDTEniJOOM. 


127 


"  It  fonntls  like  a  sccno  from  a  Jiulod'auia.  And  Mks 
Dane  bii.s  ]iot  rctiinud  .since?" 

"No;  surJ  )lio  Ikmisi-IioM  on  I"'ifth  Avenue  uro  jit  Ihcir 
wits'  iMul  to  ccnipi'ilu'inl  iu" 

"  Ami  so  iuu  1,"  suhl  the  artist.  '"  I''r  t:i  \vl):it  yen  Fuy,  it 
is  evident  the  went  vviilin^ly — (-1'  Isor  own  at;,  ord.  Jn  tuicli  u 
Miso,  of  coi'r.-'c,  I  cnn  do  nothin.i;". " 

"  kShedid  not  go  willingly,  i  am  ccM'tain  .'-lie  entered  tliat 
carriage  under  thu  imprc-:i(>:i  A'm  \uis  j.;oin^'  with  jiu." 

Mr.  Ingf'lo'.v'ti  sen.-.liive  fate  rcildencd.  lie  rose  and  walked 
tv  the  window. 

"  r.iit  fcince  it  was  not  I,  who  do  von  suppose  it  may  have 
been?" 

•'  I>ootor  Olcanler." 

"Ko!    He  would  not  dare!" 

'*  I  dcn't  know  him,"  f^aid  Miiiani;  "  hut  from  what  ^lollie 
pays  of  Inm,  1  should  jiugi'  him  to  h;:  capable  of  anythiiiji:. 
lie  loves  hi)',  and  lie  ia  muiily  ji  aloii- ;  ar.ti  jealous  men  slop 
at  nothing.  '^I'lien,  tco.  Mis.  Walravm  woild  aid  liim.  !?lie 
hates  Mollie  as  only  one  woniati  (an  liaie  an.4her. " 

"  ])uetor  Ol'jander,  then,  must  be  tin!  man  wh;»  al>dueted 
her  before,  else  liow  could  he  keep  the  assijjfiiation?'' 

"  Yes/'  said  Miiiam,  "  that  is  the  worst,  of  it.  I'uor  ^lol- 
liel  it  will  drive  lier  mad.  h'he  dete^ts  tlie  man  with  all  her 
li.ait.  If  she  is  in  his  {)f.wer,  he  v.i  1  idiow  her  no  mercy. 
J.Ir.  Jngelow,  can  you  aid  Ivv,  or  mnsi  1  seek  iior  alone  and 
unaided?" 

Mr.  Jngelow  was  standing  with  his  bark  to  her,  looking  out 
.it  the  last  yellow  line  of  the.  sunset  streaking  tlio  twilight  sky. 
He  turned  {)ar!ly  siround,  very,  veiy  jiale,  as  llie  woman  could 
see,  and  answered,  guardedly: 

*'  You  hail  better  do  noihing,  I  think.  You  had  better 
leave  the  mutter  altegeth-'r  to  me.  Our  game  is  shy,  arid 
easily  scared.  J.ea^o  :iio  to  deal  with  h:n).  1  (h.itik,  in  a 
bailloof  wits,  ]  am  a  mati  h  even  for  (iuy  (.)leander;  and  if 
Mollie  is  not  iiunie  before  thu  moou  wanes,  it,  will  be  no  fault; 
<  f  mine." 

"  J  will  irus,:,  \ou,"  Miriani  said,  ri.-ing  and  walking  to  the 
door.  '*  '^'ou  will  lose  no  time.  'J'lie  ])oor  eliild  is,  no  ilouhi, 
ill  utter  misery." 

"  I  will  Jose  no  time.  "N'ou  munt  g]<('.  me  a  week.  'I'his 
day  week  •:om<)  bu'k,  if  Mollie  is  uul  liomc,  aud  1  will  meet 
vou  here." 

Miriam  bowed  her  head  and  opened  llie  door. 

"  Mollie  will  tliaiik  you— I  can  not.     Farewell!" 


198 


THK    CKSFKN    BRfDT'GnOOM. 


"  Until  this  (!;ty  uet.k,"  Hugh  Iiigclow  paid,  with  a  court- 
eous smile  aii'l  bi:^v. 

And  then  Miriam  D-tne  was  pone,  flitting  through  biuth'ng 
Broadway  like  a  lall,  hapgiud  glio-^t, 

Hugh  Ingolow  turned  back  to  the  window,  liis  brows  knit, 
his  lips  com{)iPHsrd,  his  eyes  glowing  with  a  deep,  iiiteiiHi'  (ire 
— thinking.  So  he  stood  while  tlie  low,  yillow  gleams  ditd 
out  of  the  western  sky,  and  tlio  crystal  stars  swung  iu  tho 
azure  aruh — thinking,  thinkingl 


CII AFTER   XVIII. 
"she  oxly  said,  'jiy  life  is  dreary.*" 

That  same  brilliant  sunburst  that  transfigured  the  artist's 
studio  in  liroadway  l)!azed  into  ihe  boud(nr  of  Mrs.  Carl  Wal- 
raven,  and  turned  the  western  windows  to  sheets  of  quivering 
flame. 

Elegant  and  handsome,  in  a  superb  dinner-drens  of  rose- 
bloom  silk  and  pale  emeralds,  Mrs.  Walraven  lay  back  on  her 
sofa  and  looked  up  in  the  face  of  her  cousin  (Juy. 

"  Buoted  and  spurred,"  as  if  fr(>m  a  journey,  tho  young 
man  stood  before  her,  hat  in  hand,  relating  the  success  of 
their  scheme.  A  little  i)ale,  a  good  deal  fagj.M.d,  and  very 
anxious.  Dr.  Guy  had  sought  lii.j  cousin  the  very  tJr.;t  thing  ou 
his  arrival  in  town.  Mis.  ('arl,  arraj'ed  for  conquest,  going 
out  to  a  grand  ilinner-pai  ty,  was  very  well  dif[)o-(il  to  linger 
and  listen.  An  exullaiiL  smile  wrcallied  her  full,  ripe  lips 
and  lighted  the  big  black  eyes  with  tiiuniph. 

"  Poor  little  fool!"  she  said.  "  ilow  nicely  she  baitid  her 
own  trap,  and  how  nicely  she  walked  into  ill  Thank  the 
stars,  she  is  out  of  my  way!  Guy,  if  you  let  her  come  back, 
I'll  never  forgive  you!" 

"  By  Jove,  Blanche!"  said  tho  doctor,  bluntly,  "  if  fhe  ever 
comes  back,  it  will  matter  very  little  whether  you  forgive  me 
or  not.  I  shall  probably  go  tor  change  of  air  to  Sing  Sing  for 
the  remainder  of  my  mortal  career." 

"Pooh!  there  is  not  the  sliffhtest  danger.  Tlio  ball  is  in 
your  own  hands;  ^lollie  is  safe  as  safe  in  your  dreary  farm- 
house by  t!;a  n<'a.  Your  mother  and  f-'ully  and  J'eter  are  all 
true  as  steel;  no  dang"r  of  her  escaping  from  them." 

"  No;  but  they  decline  to  have  anything  to  do  with  my  mad 
patient.  It  v?.s  no  easy  maiter,  1  can  tell  you,  to  get  them 
to  consent  to  having  hor  there  at  all.  I  must  got  her  an  at- 
tendant." 


THE    UNSEEN    BIllDEGKOOM. 


199 


"  That  increases  the  risk.  Ilowover,  the  riok  is  slight. 
Advertise." 

'*  1  mean  to.  I  sent  an  advertiscnietit  to  the  papers  before 
1  Ciuno  hero,  CMrnfiilly  woiiknl.  AppliLaiits  im;  Lo  c  tme  to  my 
lAVuv.  TliDSL'  who  ri'ii'l  it,  a-iil  who  know  me,  will  think  1 
want  I'  nurse  for  one  of  mv  invalids,  of  coiirBe." 

"  YtHi  will  ij'j  vrry  cii;-!  ftil  in  your  seiecLinn,  d'uy?" 

"  Certiiitily.  My  life  de|)eii(lH  upr»n  it.  It  iei  a  terrible  risk 
to  run,  Blnn(;he,  for  a  foolish  litlle  girl." 

"  Hall!     Qiiakinfj  already?     And  you  ])retend  to  love  her?" 

"  I  do  love  ii'.'rl"  the  y.oung  man  cried,  [)asi5ionatelv.  "I 
love  her  to  madness,  or  1  would  not  ri.sk  life  and  liberty  to 
obtain  her." 

"  1  don't  see  the  risk,"  said  Mrs.  Blanche,  coldly.  "  You 
have  the  cards  in  your  own  hands — play  them  as  you  choose. 
Only  yi)U  and  I  know  the  secret." 

Dr.  Oleander  looked  at  h\a  [air  relative  with  a  very  gloomy 
face. 

"  A  secret  tiiat  two  know  is  a  secret  no  longer." 

"  Do  you  dare  doubt  mo?"  demanded  the  lady,  fiercely. 

"]Sn — ves — I  don't  know.  OhI  never  look  ho  haughtily 
insulted,  Mrs.  Walraven.  1  almost  doubt  mvself.  It's  my 
first  felony,  atid  it  is  natural  a  fellow  shoidd  quake  a  little. 
Hut  Mollio  is  worth  tlie  risk — worth  ten  thousand  risks.  If  it 
were  to  do  over  again,  I  woidd  do  it.  Hy  Heaven,  Blanche! 
you  .>^hould  liave  seen  her  as  fche  i-tood  there  brandishing  that 
dag'j;er  al  >ft  and  defying  me!  I  never  saw  anything  ho  traua- 
cendentlv  beautiful!" 

Mrs.  W'al raven's  scornfid  upper  lip  cinded. 

*'  Lady  Macbeth — f mr  feet  high — eh?  '  Give  me  the  dag- 
gers!' i  ahvavs  knew  she  was  a  vixen.  Your  married  iifp  »i 
likely  to  bo  a  happy  one,  my  dear  (Juv!*' 

"  bh!"  Dr.  (Juy  a'fpiratiMl,  "if  she  only  were  my  wife! 
lilanche,  I  would  give  all  I  possess  on  earth  to  know  who  that 
man  is!" 

"  Indeed!"  said  Mmn.  Blanehc,  ooolly.  "  Then  I  think  I 
can  tell  you:  it  was  Hugh  Ingelow. " 

"Blanche!" 

"  I  have  no  positive  knowledge,  yon  see,  of  the  fact,"  went 
on  the  lady,  adjusiing  her  regal  robes,  "  but  an  inward 
prescience  tells  me  so.  However,  you  may  remarry  her  and 
v?elcomo,  fruy.  I  don't  think  she  will  hardly  bo  tried  for 
bigamy.  The  happy  man,  whoever  he  msy  be,  will  scarcely 
come  forward  and  prove  fciie  previous  marriage." 
b 


180 


Tiir:   rxPEKN   inuoEoiiooM. 


"  Ami  slio  lovca  this  llii^^h  Ingolow?"  tho  doctor  >i»,h\, 
moodily. 

"  !^he  told   lliiifc  old   lady  ho,"  J^Irs.  Bliuic^ho  siii.l,  iiirily. 

'  But,  my  dc'iir  luvi'-sti'iK-k  coiuin.  v.'luit  of  tlial?     To  I  )V'o.  is 

Olio  thing;  to  hiivo,  ia  juiatlK'r.     Shu  muy  lovo  Jitpt'Iow,  but 

filio  is  yours,     ^luln^  lior  your  wii'o.     Tcueh  hor  to  ovccui-mo 

Unit  littlo  wciilvuis-.'' 

"  As  soon  as  I  (.■iiii  sottk'  my  airairs,''  sa;d  Doctor  Olciindor, 
resolutely,  *' I  sli;dl  letivo  tho  country.  I  luive  ii  friend  in 
lluviiuu — u  i)hysici;in.  Th'/if'  is  a  promis'n^  oixjui.ig  out 
there,  lie  tells  me.     I'll  take  MoHio  and  go." 

"  1  would,"  rci)lii.Hl  j\lrs.  V,;druvcn,  (du'orfully.  "  It's  h 
nice,  unhiiulthy  climate;  and  then,  when  you  arc  a  u'idnu-er — 
as  you  will  bo,  thanks  to  yellow  fever— come  back  to  dear 
New  York,  'rhoio's  no  place  Jikc  it.  And  now,  my  dear 
Guy,  I  don't  wi.-ih  to  be  rude,  you  know,  but  ii"  you  would 
depart  at  once,  you  would  very  mndj  obli^^e  me." 

.Mrs.  Walravon  stood  up,  v.m''\c1  (s^c-  to  th^  wlrdc-lcn,Lrtli 
mirror,  and  took  a  i)rolonged  and  compla(jont  view  of  \n'.r  lull- 
blown  charms. 

"  How  do  you  think  I  am  Ijosiiig,  Ouy?"  hni,i;uiilly. 
"  liather  too  pale,  am  1  not?  I  must  huvo  rcciourso  to  that 
vulgar  neoessii.y.  r')u<,'e.  Jion'n  you  thndc  tlus  new  sliade  of 
pink  lovely?  and  so  lup-ldy  suitaM',)  to  my  brinu'ttc  stylo." 

JJr.  Oleander  gave  her  a  gianec  of  disgust,  took  Iiis  hut,  and 
turned  to  leave. 

"  1  didn't  come  h  u'e  to  talk  of  )iev/  shades  of  ))inlc,  or  your 
brunette  style,  cither.  Excuse  me  f.>r  trespassing  on  your 
valuable  time,  and  j)ermit  me  to  wish  you  good-evening." 

"  Good-evciung,  cousin  mine,"  Mmo.  Jilanclie  responded, 
sweetly.  '*  Come  to-morrow,  and  we'll  havo  another  little 
chat.  By  the  bve,  how  long  do  you  expect  to  remaia  in  tho 
city?" 

"  Until  I  have  engaged  an  aUci'.tlant,  ''  ans'.vered  the  doc- 
tor, rather  sulkily. 

"  Ahl  and  that  will  be  day  after  to-morrow,  at  furthest. 
"Vou  will  iind  dozens  of  ap])Iieants.  Well,  by-byo.  Come 
again  soon.      [  shall  be  anxiou-^  always  for  your  success." 

J)r.  Oleander  fliipartc'.l.  His  practice  was  extensive,  and  he 
had  hosts  of  neglected  ]);iticnts  to  att?nd  to. 

Mrs.  VValraveii  saw  nothing  of  him  all  next  day;  but  in  tho 
evening  of  tho  succeeding  day,  and  ju?t  as  she  v.-as  getting 
very  uneasy,  Dr.  Oleajider  entered,  pale  and  fagged. 

Dr.  Oleander  had  spent  a  mo,-;t  liara'v-.ing  afte-noon,  his 
office  besieged   with  applicants  for  that  advertised  situatiou. 


THE    UKSEEN    liRIDLOKOOM. 


131 


at 


Tho  number  oi  incapiibles  that  tlmuglit  thcmsilvou  cnj)iible, 
jiiid  (iiii  luiiiiber  (if  cnpubks  wlu)  llaily  (i.jclliifil  (ho  lu?  iuunt 
they  hi'Hiil  th.\v  were  to  go  down  into  lliu  eoiiniry,  nii;;lit,  huve 
worn  onf  thu  jmlifnoo  of  a  more  jnitient  man.  And  iho  eapu- 
l)lc8  williiij,'  tu  overlook  (he  dreariness  of  the  counivy  in  on- 
siileratiun  of  liigh  wa^'ea  rose  up  immeJiaLely  and  bid  liini 
good-day  v.hen  infiMnicd  tho  patient  wa.s  a  hmatic;. 

J)!'.  Oleander  was  driven  to  lije  ver^re  of  tio.- j)eratioii,  «het), 
I'd  jus(,  ad  he  wad  about  to  j^ive  it  up  in  despair,  there  entered 
an  a|)plieai)t  wlio  suited  as  if  made  to  cider. 

'i'iiu  applicaid, —  (hid  "last,  and  bri^ditest,  and  bept  " — was 
a  woman  of  uncertain  age,  tall  and  stout,  stnni^'  and  strap- 
l)injx,  and  adorned  with  a  head  of  violent  red  Innr  and  a  pair 
of  ^ruen  ;-<p.-eta(;les.  iMinus  thede  two  dii^au'reeablo  items,  sho 
was  a  hicrhly  reHpectablo  worn  ui,  with  a  }j;rave,  xhrewd  face, 
and  a  jtortly  })orson  wrapped  in  a  somber  plaid  shawl. 

Slio  stated  her  ease.  .Slie  liad  seen  the  ailvertisenient,  .ind 
had  come  to  ap[)ly  for  tho  hitualion.  She  wha  aeeu.^Lom'  d  lo 
tho  otiiee  of  sick-nuroO,  and  considered  lier^elf  lully  (piuiilied 
for  i(i. 

] For  statement  wa-s  plain  and  stiaight  forward — miieh  men) 
DO  than  that  of  her  iiredeeensors.  J)r.  (Meander  wa.s  inclined 
to  b(!  pl.;ast'd,  dtii-^pite  the  green  K.peelacles. 

"  liut  I  should  \\M\  you  to  go  into  the  country — a  very  dull 
piano  indeed." 

The  a|>pliciMit  fol  led  her  cotton  gloves  one  ever  tho  other, 
and  met  tir.;  doctor's  gaze  with  eomj)Oie;l  green  ghi  sts. 

"  'I'he  country  is  no  objection,  .sir.  I'm  Ubod  to  (julel;,  and 
al!  i>laf!  s  are  alike  to  me." 

"  You  hav'i  your  credeiilials  with  you,  I  su])posof" 

"  I  have,  h'ir.     lleKs  they  are." 

Nho  lianded  two  or  throe  certificates  of  capability  to  the 
toxicologist. 

Um  glanctrl  them  lightly  over,  and  saw  that  Mr.s.  S4Joati 
yharpt!  was  all  that  heart  coulil  desire  in  tha  way  of  siek- 
nurse. 

"  'J'hcse  are  satisfactory,"  luuiding  them  back.  "  Bat  1 
have  one  faiit  to  mention  that  may  discouiage  you:  tho  lady 
— (he  })atient — i:-!  insane." 

Mrs.  .Susan  Shar[)e  heard  this  ctartling  statement  without 
moving  a  muscle  of  her  dull,  white  face. 


(4 


Indeed,  a'u'l     A  violent  lunatic,  sir? 


V" 


Oh,  dear,  uol  merely  insane.  Sul)jeot  to  occasioiial  fits 
of  violence,  you  understand,  but  quiet  generally.  But  even 
in  her  most  violent  fits  die  would  bo  nothing  in  your  hauda — ■ 


132 


TJIK    I  NS*:i:N    UIMDI'IGKOOM. 


a  strong,  large  woniiin  liko  ynii.  She  i.s  lilllo  inoro  than  a 
thild  ill  yiui!-,  juul  fjiiilo  u  chill  in  weaixuoss.  If  you  iloii't 
mlTid  I  ho  duUuoss  ol  ihu  countrv,  you  would  auiL  jtdiuirablv,  I 

thiMi<." 

"  1  don't;  in  tho  least  mind,  sir.  Tho  situation  will  suit  mo 
rery  well." 

"lam  very  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  tho  doctor,  immon^xly 
relieved.     "  \Vu  may  consider  it  a  bargain,  tlu'u;-'" 

"  Jf  vfiu  pleasi',  yir,"  riaiiig  (juietly.  "  When  will  you  want 
me  to  go?" 

"  Tu-morrow  morning.  Hy  the  way,  ^Irs.  .^liarpe,"  ;aid 
the  doctor,  eying  the  obnoxioii.-!  lunettcd,  "  why  do  you  wear 
green  glasses?" 

"  My  eyes  are  weak,  sir."  Mr.-f.  Sharpo  removed  the  -loec- 
taoles  as  she  spoke,  and  displayed  a  pair  of  ilnll  t.'ray  eyes  witk 
Tery  pink  rims.  "  Tho  light  airects  them.  1  hope  my  gly.Hsea 
are  no  objeetion,  sir?" 

"  Oh,  not  in  the  least!  Exi'use  my  quostion.  Very  well^ 
then,  Mrs.  Sharjte;  just  give  me  your  address,  and  I'll  call 
round  for  you  to-morrow  forenoon." 

Mrs.  SImrpo  gave  him  the  street  and  number — a  dirty 
locality  near  the  East  Kivor.  l)r.  Ok-atMlt-r  "  made  a  note  of 
it,"  and  the  new  nurse  made  hor  be«t  obeisance  mid  dcp  irted. 

And^  to  inform  Muie.  lilancho  of  his  su;:i;css  in  llii-s  matter, 
Dr.  (ruy  presented  himself  at  the  VVal raven  matii.ion  just  a3 
tho  misty  twilight  was  ereepin;:  out  and  tho  stars  and  street 
lamps  were  lighting  up. 

He  found  the  lady,  .is  usur.i,  beautiful  and  oh\:;ant,  and 
dressed  to  perfection,  and  retiiy  to  receive  hiin  alone  in  the 
drawing-room. 

"  I've  been  seriously  anxious  about  you,  Guy,"  Mrs.  Wal- 
raven  said.  "  Your  prolonged  absence  t>k'ar]y  gave  me  a 
nervous  fit.  I  had  serious  ideas  of  calling  at  ^our  idiice  this 
afternoon.     Why  were  you  not  here  sooner?" 

"  Why  wasn't  1?  Because  I  couldn't  be  in  hiilf  a  do7.;^n 
places  at  once,"  answered  her  cousin,  rather  crossly.  "  I've 
been  badgered  within  an  inch  of  my  life  by  confounded  women 
in  shabby  dresses  and  poky  bonnets  all  day.  Out  of  two  or 
three  bushels  of  ohatl  I  only  found  one  grain  of  svheat. " 

"And  that  one?" 

"  Her  earthly  name  is  Susan  Sharpe,  and  she  rejoices  in 
red  hair  and  green  ghisses,  and  the  blood  and  brawn  and 
muscle  of  a  gladiator — !i.  treasure  who  doesn't  object  to  a 
howling  wilderness  or  a  raving-mad  patient.  1  clinched  her  ai 
ono«." 


THE    T:XSr:?:N    URIDKOROOAf. 


133 


*'  And  she  f^ocs  with  you — when?" 

" 'J'o-runnow  inoniio!^'.  If  Xfollio  i.s  still  obilurnto,  1  iniiKt 
IcHve  In  1'  ill  thii  woniim's  <.h;ir^e,  airl  return  to  town.  An 
POOH  us  I  <!m  Ki'ttio  ujy  ulTiiins,  I  will  go  buck  to  tlic  farm  and 
bo  (iir  Willi  my  brido  to  lliivaiiu." 

"  Ahvikv.s  siippfirtiii;,'  slio  will  not  consent  to  return  with  you 
to  Now  York  in  tiiat  tlmi actor?" 

*'  Of  course.  l>iit  .'^lio  never  will  do  tlmt,"  the  doctor  said, 
dei-'potulentiy.       "  Vou    don't    know    liow    sho     hates    me, 

IMiineho  slirup'^od  hor  graoeful  shouMers. 

"  Do  you  implicitly  tiii.-.t  this  woman  you  have  hired?" 

**  I  trust  no  one,"  responded  Dr.  (iuy,  bruy([uely.  "My 
inotii;!r  and  Sally  and  Peter  will  watch  hor.  Although,  1  daro 
nay,  there  may  bo  no  necessity,  it  is  always  best  to  bo  on  tho 
safe  side." 

"  Ilow  I  shruld  like  to  see  lier — to  triumph  over  her — to 
exult  in  her  misery!"  lUanihe  cried,  hor  eyes  sparkling. 

"I  daro  say,"  said  J)r.  Oleander,  with  sneering  cynicism. 
"  You  would  not  be  a  woman,  else.  Hut  you  will  never  have 
tho  chance.  1  don't  hate  mv  poor  littlo  captive,  remember. 
Thoro!  is  that  the  dinner-bell?" 

"  'N'es— (;omo!  We  have  Sir  Roger  Trajenna  to-day,  and 
Mr.  Walraven  detests  bt'ing  kept  waiting." 

"  Poor  Sir  liogerl"  with  a  sneering  laugh.  "  How  does 
the  lovesick  old  (lota.r(l  bear  thi:^  seconil  loss?" 

"  Hetter  than  ho  did  the  first;  his  pride  aids  him.  Jt  is  my 
husband  who  is  like  a  man  distraught." 

"  Tho  voice  of  Nature  sjieaks  loudly  in  the  ]iaternal  breast," 
said  Dr.  Oleander.  "  '  Xaler  will  capjr,'  as  Ethan  Spike  says. 
MoUiir's  mamma  must  have  been  a  very  pretty  woman, 
Blanche." 

Mrs.  Walraven 's  black  eyes  snapped;  but  they  were  at  tho 
dining-room  door,  and  she  swept  in  as  your  tall,  stately  women 
in  trailing  silks  ilo  sweep,  bowing  to  l\vi  baronet,  and  taking 
her  place,  and,  of  course,  the  subject  of  the  interesting  cap- 
tive down  in  Long  Island  was  postponed  indefinitely. 

Dr.  Oleander  dined  and  spent  tho  evening  at  the  W^alravem 
palace,  and  talked  about  his  ward's  second  llight  with  her 
distressed  guardian,  and  opined  she  must  have  gone  oil  to 
gratify  soni'!  whim  of  her  own,  and  laughed  in  his  sleeve  at 
tho  two  anxious  faoes  hi  fore  him,  and  departed  at  ten,  mellow 
with  wino  and  full  of  hope  for  the  future. 

Early  next  morning  Dr.  Oleander  called  round  for  Susan 
Sharpe,  «nd  found  that  tre»<uro  of  nurses  ready  and  waiting. 


134 


THE    UNSEEN"    rPTPT-OROOM. 


All  tliroiigli  ihn  long  drive  she  e;il.  by  hi^  vaIo  in  his  light 
wagon,  ru'Vd-  cpeninj^  her  di-scdt  li(>i  fxcf^jt  in  iTHpfiiid  to 
his  qno:-tioi;3,  i>ud  ^Hziiio-  straiglit  alx-ud  thioiirrh  hir  <:i-ccii 
glassies  into  th  '  ".vorltl  or  fut'irity,  b)v  ;ill  Iut  nonipunioji  knew. 

'*  Ainoi!.','  yoMj-  cli.ir^ro's  Imllnriniitiiiiis,"  .sind  l)r.  Oleiifulci', 
just  bifwra  tlu-y  arrived,  "  tlio  chief  is;  (hat  .six;  is:  iirt  crazy  au 
ull.  She  will  ;oIl  you  she  Ikls  hvcn  Ijnihghr.  h'.'re  ngaitist  her 
will;  that  I  vn  u  tyrant  and  a  viU'iin,  nnd  \\\i)  \\r\fii  of  men; 
ami  she  will  try  and  i)rib('  you,  I  dare  tay,  to  let  hir  csiuipc. 
Of  course  you  will  humor  lur  at  the  time,  Init  pay  not  the 
least  attention." 

"  Of  cour.y:.',"  Mrs.  .Susan  Sluxrpc-  answered. 

There  was  a  pau-se,  th'on  the  nurso  aslccd  the  first  question 
she  had  put: 

"  What  irt  my  pat)ent%:  name,  sir?" 

Dr.  Oleander  ]>iiiised  an  iiistunt,  and  rna^'tcred  a  sudden 
tremor.     His  v.)ioe  wiisquiie  t^teady  wiien  he  rejilied: 

"Miss  Dane.  Her  friunds  are  tmiiieiiily  n'^•peetabIe,  and 
have  the  iilmu.-t  confidence  in  me.  I  lia'. e  evu-y  reason  to 
hope  that  the  Cjuiet  of  tliid  place  and  tiie  frcih  isoa  air  will 
eventiuiL'y  eilcc.t  a  cure." 

"I  hope  so,  sir,"  Mn;.  Susan  Sharpe  ?aid;  and  the  jiinlc- 
rimmcd  eyes  glowed  behind  the  greoji  j.'.hi^!«c:s  and  into  the 
talJou'-eandle  complexion  crej-.t  ju.sL  the  fa^nle.^!.  titigo  of  red. 

Ii  was  an  inexpressibly  lonely  j)ltiee,  as  Mi.s.  Sliarpe  saw  it. 
A  long  stret(,'h  of  bleak,  desola'e,  win  iy  road,  a  desolate,  salty 
niRrsii,  ghostly  wocds,  and  the  wide,  dreary  sen.  Over  all, 
this  afti?rnoon,  a  sutilcsa  sky,  threaivning  rain,  and  a  grim  old 
pile  til  buildings  fronting  the  si'a  view. 

"  A  loni'some  2)lace,"  Mrs.  Su;-um  Sliarpo  f;aid,  as  if  in  spite 
of  horseli — "  an  awfully  lonesome  [)laeL!" 

Dr.  Oleander  looked  at  her  suspiciously  a.j  he  drew  up  be- 
fore the  frowning  gale. 

"It  is  hinely,"  he  said,  carelessly.  "I  told  you  so,  you 
remember;  but_,  from  its  very  loneliness,  all  tlie  belter  for  my 
too  exc'  able  p;i.tient." 

Mrs.  Slrivp'j's  face  seemed  to  say  she  ih  'ught  it  mi;',ht  be 
more  condu.-ive  to  bi'getting  melauelioly  ma  Inehs  than  c  iiriug 
it,  but  h.M-  tongue  said  n(»tliing.  'I'wo  big  d  gs,  harking  furi- 
ously, cunc  tumbling  round  tho  ar.glo  of  the  houije.  Dr. 
Oleander  3tru<d<  tit  them  with  his  whiji. 

"  Down,  Tiger!  Sdenoe,  >ier  \  y^.u  overgrown  biutel"  ho 
nvi'^1,  willi  on  angry  oath.  "Come  along,  Mis.  8harpe, 
There's  no  occasion  to  bo  ahirmcd;  they  wont  t(.  j.ch  you." 

Mrs.   Sharpc,    despite    this    assurance,    lookin/j    mortally 


THK     fNSKEN     KRIDEGROOM. 


l:i6 


afraid,  kept  cloje  to  the  doctor,  and  stood  gazing  in'ound  hc>i' 
whilo  v/iutin^^  to  be  admittial.  Bolta  gi-;itod,  the  key  creaked, 
;i!)d  lioiuilv  ;m  I  wuiiiv  old  Peifc  oiicned  the  dooi'  U!id  recoii- 
noitcred. 

"It  is  T,  I'c-tcr,  you  old  fooll  (Jet  oat  of  tho  way,  aud 
don't  keep  us  wuitingi" 

With  whiidi  rough  greetinpc  the  young  man  strode  in,  fol 
U)w:d  hy  tlio  iuu\^l'. 

*'  lit;  fotcht.;  ;i  w'ouKui  eveiy  time,"  uiunnured  old  Petor, 
phiiuUvid'/,  "  and  we've  got  u  great  plenty  now,  Lord  kuowt!"' 

"  '['hi-!  wav,  nia'arn,"  lalled  Dr.  Oicandf-,  a'ridiug  .straight, 
to  (hi'  kiL:;iK';i;  "  \\\-"ll  (ind  a  lire  hero,  at  h:ixsL  1l'.s  \vo;?e 
than  (Ji-eenlanil,  this  frigid  zonti" 

Mvi.  Oleaiiiier  Hi'l.  Ix'fore  Ihe  blazing  fire,  iiluoking  a  fowl; 
'"■'ally  Ktt)od  at  the  table,  kiu'ading  dough.  IVith  pau.-ed,  wilh 
feuiininc  c::idauiution.'^,  at  sight  oC  the  doctor,  and  turned 
dire!/tly,  with  fi-rniniiio  eurinrfity,  to  stare  at  the  woman. 

"  Ilow  do,  laotiiL'r?  How  tire  you,  Sallv?  J>a.';k  again, 
you  see,  like  ihe  proverbial  bad  t'liiliingl  This  is  Mrs.  busan 
ISh  irpc,  tlic  nurse  1  prouiisitl  to  bring.     IIow's  our  pationt?" 

lie  t!irned  anxiously  'o  his  mother.  tSha  took  her  eyes  from 
Mrs.  Shai-po  to  answer. 

"  J  don't  k.'iow:  .^lio  frigliteius  uk',  <aiy. " 

"  Fri;;htens  youl''  growing  very  ])ale.  "How?  Is  she  so 
vioieJit?" 

"  No;  it's  tlift  other  way.  8he'i^  so  still;  John's  like  one 
(1(  ;id  in  life.  Slio  sit;  all  day,  and  never  moves  nor  :^poaks. 
She  doesn't  eat  enough  to  keci)  a  bird  alive,  and  she  never 
iileej)s,  I  beliese;  I'or,  go  into  her  ro'  ni  night  or  day,  there 
you  liud  I.er  sitting  wide  awake." 

Dr.  Oleander  looked  white  witli  dismay. 

"  Does  she  never  s]»eak?"  he  asked. 

"  She  never  s[)iiko  to  iiio  but  ouee,  aial  that  was  to  ask  me 
who  I  was.  When  I  t'l  1  iier  1  was  your  mother,  she  lin-ned 
hor  bark  upon  lue,  with  the  remark,  '  He  says  I'm  mad,  and 
surely  none  but  a  mad-woman  vvould  look  I'or  uuirey  from  a 
:,iger'd  dami'     She  has  never  spoKon  to  me  sinee. " 

Dr.  Oleiuidor  stood  listening  with  i\  very  gloomy  faeo.  J-Ira. 
Sharpe,  sittinu'  warmin:;  herself  before  the  tire,  lo  iked  straight 
It  it,  with  a  blank,  sallow  faee. 

"  What  do  you  laid  her  doing  mostly?"  ho  u.3ked,  after 
'iwhile. 

"  Sitting  by  the  window,  looking  at  the  .va,"  a;i8worod  his 
mother--"  always  tluit — wiih  a  faco  the  color  of  snow." 

The  gloom  on  the  young  man's  faee  deepened.     What  if  ho 


136 


THE    UXSKEK    nRTOFOllOOM. 


should  prove  liimi-elf  a  prcpliot,?     Wh-.t  il  iliKi  sjiiritcd,  half- 
tamed  ibing  sliouUl  {lo  jiii'lanclioly  iijud? 

"  I  v/ill  go  (n  hur  at  once!"  he  exclaimed,  starfiug  up. 
*'  It  she  goes  i'it.o  a  pas^itni  at  i-icdit  (if  mo,  it  will  do  her  good. 
iVnydiinpr  is  b'.'tter  tliin  thi.-;  dtaih  in  lift'.*' 

H'j  heM  out  Ills  hand  for  the  key  of  thj  room  upstairs,  lli^ 
muth;>r  Iianded  it  to  him,  and  lie  strode  (uii,  at  once;  and  then 
M  3.  Oleander  turned  her  regards  upon  tlie  new  nurse. 

►StivingL-r:^  were  "sight  fur  sair  een  "  in  tluit  ghostly,  do 
eerted  farm-house.     Ihit  the  new  nurse  never  looked  at  In 
she  sat  with  thnsje  impenetrable  green  glasses  iixed  steadfas./ 
ou  the  blazing  tire. 


CnAPTKii  XIX. 

MISTHKSS   SUSAN-   SlIAUPE. 

Dh.  Olkaxhek  was  by  no  meaiis  a  coward,  yet  it  is  safe  to 
say  his  heart  was  bumping  iigainst  his  ribs,  willi  u  soisatinu 
that  was  near  akin  to  lear,  m  ho  ascetuhjd  the  stairs.  lEo  was 
really  infatuatedly  ifi  love  willi  h'n  fair-haired  liitlo  eiirh.ant- 
ress,  else  he  tiever  hal  taken  his  late  des^jieiato  step  to  win 
her;  and  now,  having  her  completely  in  his  power,  it  was 
rather  hard  to  be  threatened  with  her  loss  by  melancholy 
inadne:^8. 

*'  What  s/iall  1  do  with  her?'*  he  asked  hims.lf,  in  a  sort  of 
ccnsteination.  "  1  must  keep  her  here  until  I  get  my  aifairs 
settled,  and  that  will  be  a  week  at  the  soon*  st.  If  we  were 
safely  en  rank  for  Havana,  I  should  cease  to  fear.  JIow  v/lU 
she  receive  me,  I  wonder?" 

Ha  tapped  softly  at  the  door.  Th'.'re  was  uo  response. 
The  silence  of  the  grave  reigned  all  through  the  lonely  old 
liouse.  He  tapi>ed  again.  tStill  no  un.;wer.  "  Mollii'I"  ho 
called.  There  was  no  reply.  The  next  moment  he  had  in- 
sorted  the  key,  turned  it,  and  opened  the  prison  door. 

Ur.  Oleander  paui^ed  on  the  llire.sh(>ld  and  took  in  the  jiict- 
ure.  He  could  see  the  lovv'-lying,  i-unlcss  afternoon  sky,  all 
gray  and  cheerless;  the  gray,  complaining  sea  creeping  upon 
the  greaov  ^hingle;  the  desolate  cxjian.-e  of  road;  the  tongue 
of  niarshlaiiii;  the  strip  of  black  ]»ine  woods — all  that  could 
bo  seen  from  ihe  window.  The  prlr.on-room  look<d  drear  and 
bleak;  the  lire  on  (he  liearth  wa!s  snioliloi  ing  away  to  bhuk 
ashos;  the  untastcd  nual  stood  on  the  tab!'\  iStHtt'l  by  the 
window,  in  a  dro-  ping,  siiiritles-;  way,  a.^  if  ijvor  carinj^  to  stir 
ngdin,  sat  bright  Alollie,  the  gliost  of  her  former  m',!  Wan 
M  a  spirit,  thin  as  a  shadow,  the  rparkle  gone  fmrn  her  blue 


THE    UNSEEN    ERIDEOnOOir. 


137 


eves,  the  E;nl(len  plimmer  from  the  yellow  liuir,  she  sat  there 
with  folded  hatids  m\:\  weary,  lio{)elc.w  eyes  that  never  k-ft  the 
desolate  sea.  Kot  imprisoiiincnt,  not  the  desolation  of  the 
I)rospect,  not  the  loneliness,  not  the  fasting  had  wrought  the 
cha'igp,  but  the  kfiowled^e  that  she  was  thit:'  man's  wife. 

Dr.  Olnuider  had  aninle  time  to  stand  there  and  view  the 
scone.  fShe  never  frtiiied.  If  she  heard  the  door  open,  she 
made  no  more  sign  than  if  she  v.'ere  stone  deaf. 

"  iMolliel"  he  called,  advancing;  a  step. 

At  the  sound  of  that  hated  voice  bhe  gave  a  violent  start,  a 
faiiit,  stiu-tled  cry,  and  turning  for  the  first  time,  eyed  him 
like  a  wild  animal  at  hay. 

"  Mollic,  my  poor  litUe  girl,"  he  said  in  a  voiee  of  real 
jiiiy,  "you  are  gone  to  a  shad.;.wl  I  never  thought  a  few 
days'  confinement  could  work  such  a  change." 

She  never  spoke;  she  sat  breathing  hard  and  audibly,  and 
eying  him  with  wild,  wide  eves. 

"  "^'ou  mustn't  give  way  like  thir',  Mollie;  you  mustn't  really, 
you  know.  It  will  not  be  for  long.  I  mean  to  talce  you  away 
from  lierc.  V'ery  s  )on  we  will  go  to  ('uha,  and  then  my  whole 
life  will  be  devoted  to  you.  No  slave  will  serve  h's  mistress  as 
1  will  you." 

He  drew  nearer  as  he  p{)oke.  Quick  as  liirhtning  her  hand 
sought  her  breast,  and  the  blue  gliam  of  the  dagger  dazzled 
his  eyes. 

"One  step  nearer,"  she  liissed,  between  set,  glistening 
teeth,  "  and  I'll  bury  it  in  your  heart  or  my  ownl" 

8he  raised  it  with  a  gesture  grand  and  terrible,  and  rising 
slowly  fi-'un  her  scat,  coiifronted  him  like  a  little  tigress. 

"Mnilic,"  he  said,  injpijriiiglv,  "  lidten  to  me — your  hus- 
band!" 

Her  white  teeth  locked  together  with  a  clinching  noise;  siie 
s'jiod  there  like  a  pale  little  fury. 

"  Have  you  no  pity  for  such  love  as  mine,  Mollie?  Is  vonr 
heart  made  of  stone,  that  all  my  devotion  can  not  meli  it?" 

To  bis  horror,  .she  Irnke  into  a  discordant,  niirthk's;;  laugh. 

"  Ilis  devotion!  He  tears  me  away  from  nu'  friends,  he 
locks  mo  up  in  a  dungeon  until  he  drives  mo  maill  lli3  devo- 
tion!" 

Siie  laughod  hysteiirally  again. 

"  It  secins  harsh,  Midlie,  l)nt  it  i'-;  not  meant  in  harshness. 
If  there  were  any  other  way  of  winnijig  yon.  you  know  I  would 
never  resort  to  nu'h  extreme  nieasiiroJi.  I  am  not  the  only 
mail  that  ha;^  c  „i  ricd  en"  t)u;  woman  he  Ijved,  when  other 
menus  failed  to  win  her." 


138 


THE    rNSRFN    IMUDr.GTJOOAr. 


j\gain  ho  can  o  nearer,  holding  out  his  lianfls  \yith  an  im" 
plorifig  gestni'o, 

"  Only  y>iy  tliafc  you  will  try  and  hjvo  nie — only  pay  that 
yoii  will  bo  my  vifo — pronii.^i;  uh'.  on  your  v,  m-tl  of  honor,  and 
I  will  take  you  i)ack  to  Aow  York  tliiri  dayl" 

J>ut  1*  ll'e's  inswer  was  to  raise  her  forniidaMc  knife. 

"One  '  •  ore,"  she  said,  jrlarin;:  nnon  him  with  sup- 
pressed fui_)         one  step  nearer,  if  you  .hirel" 

lie  saw  in  1  .    face  it  was  no  idle  threat,  and  lie  recoilcii. 

"  8tay  here,  then,"  he  an-rrdy  erieil,  '*  since  you  will  Imva 
it  so!  It  is  yoi  r  own  fault,  and  you  must  abide  (he  conse- 
quences. Mine  you  shall  bo,  by  fair  Hitans  or  foul  I  I  leave 
you  now,  since  my  pretienoe  does  no  good,  l)ut  by  this  day 
week  you  will  le  sailing  with  mo  to  sunny  Cuba.  T;.  re  I 
can  have  tbings  my  own  way,  and  your  high-tragedy  airs  will 
avail  3'ou  little." 

He  walked  tc  the  door,  turned,  paused.  She  stood  like  a 
statue,  v/hite  as  marble,  but  with,  oh!  siuJi  fiercely  burning 
eyos! 

"  1  have  brouj;ht  you  an  attendant,"  ho  Kail,  sidlcnly.  "  I 
will  send  her  up  for  those  things,"  pointing  to  the  iintasted 
dinner;  "she  w  11  wait  u2)on  you  during  the  bricj  timi.' you 
are  to  n.-main  here." 

She  never  mo  cd.  She  stood  there  white  and  defiant  and 
panting,  her  glit  ering  eyes  riveted  to  his  faoe.  With  a  sullen 
oath  he  opened  t  le  door  and  walktxl  out,  btdlled  once  more. 

"  Curse  the  little  vixeiil"  he  muttertd,  as  he  stalked  down- 
Btairs;  "  she's  m  ide  of  the  stuiT  tbat  brcak^^  but  never  bends. 
1  believe  in  my  s  >al  if  I  was  to  carry  hor  off  to  sea  to-m'>rrow 
she  would  lea})  o\  erboard  and  end  it  all  the  day  after.  1  wish 
I  had  never  listened  to  Bianehe's  tempting.  I  wi-h  I  had  left 
the  little  ternuifiant  in  peace.  The  game  if-ii't  worth  the 
candle." 

He  found  Mrs.  Supan  Sharp;',  sitting  wliere  he  had  left  her, 
rith  Iht  imperturbable  face  still  turned  to  the  lire,  her  bonnet 
and  shawl  still  on. 

*'  Take  ol!  those  things!"  lie  ordei-ed,  harshly,  pointing  to 
the  o'Tending  g;irnu:nts— it  was  a  relief  to  vent  his  .-pleen  on 
some  one.  "  Why  the  deuce  don't  you  take  her  to  her 
room!''"  turning  navagely  upon  Sally.  '*  Let  her  have  tho 
chamber  next  my  patient,  and  thtii  go  into  her  room  and 
feti'I)  away  tho  tray,  and  sefi  what  you  (;an  do  for  iicr. " 

lie  (lung  hinifitlt  into  a  chair.  Mrs.  Sh.arpo  roi^e  with  £'> 
immovabl,)  fiice. 

"  Lor'I"  taiJ  old  »Sally,  "  don't  tsnap  our  heads  off,  Master 


THE  rx?T:F-V  PRiDF.nnnoir. 


13!) 


K.n 


Guy!  I  can't  help  that  yonng  wroman'.s  tantrum?;  upstair!-;; 
so,  if  sh<?  ])uis  you  out  of  tomiJtr,  you  nec-dn't  come  howlin;;,' 
at  uv\     'Ylm  way,  dia'ani." 

Mrs.  Sbu'jip,  Willi  a  Ktoli'l  countenance,  followed  Sally  up- 
stairs. The  old  woman,  grumOling  angrily  all  the  way,  U<1 
hor  into  a  small,  draughty  apartment  adjoining  that  of  hir 
charge. 

"  'i'hore!"  eaid  Sally,  snappishly:  "  this  here  is  your  room? 
and  the  crazy  young  woman's  i.s  next.  Take  oii  your  things, 
and  then  conio  down-stairs  and  see  v.hat  he  want.s  next,  and 
don't  have  him  biting  at  us  as  if  wc  was  dog^I" 

Mrs.  Sliarpe  obevc-d  orders  to  the  hiter.  In  five  minutt.8 
she  was  back  in  the  kiL<  hen,  ready  for  a'  tion.  '^I'iu!  carroty 
locks  were  partly  covered  with  a  Idack,  uncouth  cap,  and  a 
large  stud'  apron  protected  her  dingy  bombazine  dress.  She 
turned  a  questioning  face  upon  her  employer,  but  spoke  never 
a  word. 

"  This  is  the  key  of  your  patient's  room,"  he  said,  handing 
it  to  her;  "you  will  go  up  and  introtliice  yourself,  and  do 
whatever  is  needful.  I  im  going  ba'-k  to  town  to-nif^ht. 
Don't  let  me  have  aiiv  fauit  to  rind  wilk  you  when  I  return." 

Mrs.  Sharpu  t.»ok  the  kev  and  turned  to  go. 

"  I  know  my  duty,  sir,"  she  ^id,  as  she  walked  cut.  '*  I 
know  wlua  J  came  to  do,  and  I'll  do  it." 

J)r.  Oleander  turned  to  hi  mother  and  old  Sally  when  the 
nurse  had  gone. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  lier,  mother?" 

"  1  don't  like  her,'*  Mrs.  Oleander  answered,  promptly. 
"  1  wouldn't  trust  a  person  with  hair  like  that  as  fur  as  I 
CO'dil  see  them!" 

"  Pooh,  ptM)h!  what's  her  hair  got  to  do  with  it?" 

"  Very  well,"  Haid  Mrs.  (Jlt-aiider,  nodding  fiap;aciousIy. 
"  It's  noihiug  to  me;  but  a  red-haired  per.^ou  is  never  to  be 
trusted." 

"Then  watch  her,"  paid  the  doctor.  "I  tru?t  you  and 
Sally  to  do  that.  1  know  nothing  ahout  her:  but  don't  you  let 
iier  play  me  false.  It  i^  of  the  grfate.«t  importance  to  me  that 
the  insane  girl  lip-tiiirs  does  not  escape — and  escapi"  she  will 
if  she  can.  She  will  try  to  bribe  the  nurse — do  you  waich  the 
nurse.     Ii  will  only  b>'  i'or  a  we*  k  at  furthest." 

"  1  am  glad  to  hear  it,"  j^aid  his  mother,  sjiilefidly.  "  I 
don't  like  mv  hoii.co  full  of  niiid-women  and  nuul  womon'rf 
nurKos,  and  J  don't  lik;  |)layin.-  the  spy!" 

**  It  will  only  be  for  a  week,"'  the  doctor  repeated.     "  1 


110 


THE    UNSFEW    BRIDEGROOM. 


will  jiever  trouble  you  in  tliij  way  again.     And  now  I  mnst 
bo  off  at  once.     1  want  to  sjleep  in  Kew  York  to-u'ght." 

Without  fur! her  parley  Dr.  Oleander  stalked  out  of  the* 
kitchen  and  out  of  the  hou;>e.  Five  minutes  more,  and  they 
Iieard  the  sha'p  rattle  of  his  wIkh'Is  on  the  giuvel.  Then  old 
Peter  bolted  and  locked  and  put  up  the  chiiins,  and  made  the 
lonely  farm-house  as  much  like  a  jail  as  bolts  and  bars  could 
render  it.  Their  8ituatiou  was  so  isolated,  and  they  them- 
selves  so  helpless,  that,  although  there  was  but  little  to  fear;, 
these  precautionary  measures  were  natural  enough. 

Meantime,  the  new  nurse  had  ascended  the  stairs  and  un- 
locked her  captive's  door.  She  rap[ied  rtspictfuiiy  before 
entering;  but,  as  usual,  Mollie  deigued  no  notice,  and  after 
waiting  an  instant,  she  turned  the  handle  and  went  in. 

Mollie  had  resumed  her  seat  by  the  wi;u1o\v.  and,  with  her 
chin  resting  on  her  hand,  was  gazing  with  gloomy  eyes  at  the 
evening  mists  rising  over  the  bleak  gray  sea. 

Much  weeping  had  dulled  the  luster  of  those  Fparkling  eyes 
and  paled  the  bright  bloom  of  the  once  rounded  cheeks. 

"J'ho  Chrisunas  snows  were  not  whiter  nor  colder  than  the 
girl  who  sat  there  and  stared  in  blank  de;-j);ur  at  the  wide  sea. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  miss,"  said  Mi^j.  Susan  Sharpe,  halt- 
ing in  tiio  door-way;  "  I  want  to  come  in." 

At  the  sound  of  the  strange  voice,  the  prisoner  wheeled 
euddeidy  around  and  confronted  her. 

"Come  in,  then,"  she  said:  and  MiS.  Sharpe  came  slowly 
in  and  closed  the  door.  "  Who  arc  you?"'  MoJlic  asked, 
transfixing  her  with  her  steadfast  gaze.  "  1  never  saw  you 
before. " 

"  No,  mias;  1  only  came  from  JS'ew  York  to-day." 

"  Who  are  you?" 

"  I'm  Susan  Sharps." 

"  And  what  are  j'ou  doing  here?" 

"  I'm  to  1)6  your  nurse,  miss.  Doctor  Oleander  hired  me 
and  brought  me  down." 

"  Doctor  Oleander  is  a  villain,  and  you  are,  I  sui-pcct,  his 
tool." 

*'J'm  sorry  you  think  so,  miss,"  Mrs.  Suian  Sharpe  said, 
composedly.     "  Is  there  anything  1  can  do  for  your"' 

F>ut  Mollie  did  not  reply.  She  was  staring  at  her  new  at- 
tendant with  all  her  ijjight. 

"  Who  are  yen?  '  f-he  said,  breathlepsly.  *'  Surely  eoui». 
one  1  know." 

Tiie  woman  smiled. 


THE    UNSEFN    KRIDEGHOOM. 


141 


"  Ko  one  3'ou  kiunv,  miss— unleHS  yon  have  the  advantage 
of  rn^.     r  don't  Btij>p  i;e  you  ever  heiin]  mv  name  btf  )re. "' 

"I  don't  t^upposy  1  htive,"  retorted  Miij  Dane;  "but  I 
Imve  certaiMly  luard  your  voio". '' 

"  Nol     Have  yon,  now  ?     Where,  I  wonder?" 

Mollie  ^a/.iui  at  her  wi-t fully,  scrulinizingly.  Surely  that 
fjico,  that  voice,  woro  fMiniliar;  and  yet,  as  soon  as  she  strove 
to  place  thcni,  all  became  ooururfion.  She  turned  away  with 
a  si/,'li. 

"  It's  of  no  use.  I  .siipt)o:^o  you're  in  leaj^iue  witli  the  rcdt. 
1  think  the  jKiopIe  in  this  hourfc  liave  hearis  harder  than 
atone." 

*'  I'm  very  sorry  fu-  you,  mist^,  if  that's  what  you  mean," 
Paid  Mrs.  Su^an  Sharjie,  reapcctfully.  "■  ^'oura  is  a  very  sad 
altliolion,  indeed." 

*' A  very  sad  aHliction!  ])o  you  mean  beint?  impri;ionod 
here?"  ^        * 

"  Oh,  dear,  no,  mis.s!"  looking  embarrassed.  "  I  mean— 
T'ni  sure,  I  beg  your  pardon,  miss — I  mean — " 

*'  Vou  moan  you  jjretend  to  believe  Doctor  Oleander's  ro- 
mance," interrupted  Moljie,  contemptuously.  "  You  mean 
1  am  crazy  I" 

"  Don't  bo  angry,  miss,"  said  Mrs.  Sharpo,  deprecatingly. 
*'  J  wouldn't  give  oironss  for  (he  world." 

"  Look  at  mo,"  said  Mi>llie,  impetuously — "  look  nie  in  the 
face,  Susan  Sharj)c,  and  tell  me  if  1  look  like  one  insanel" 

Mrs.  Sharpe  turned  the  mild  light  of  the  green  glasses  oa 
the  pale,  excited  young  face. 

"  No,  miss,  I  (um't  say  you  do;  l)iit  it  isn't  for  me  to 
judge.  I'm  a  |)oor  woman,  trying  to  (urn  an  hoii"?t 
j>enny — " 

"  J}y  helping  tho  greatest  scoumlrel  that  ever  escaped  tlie 
gallows  to  keep  prisoner  an  unotTending  gnll  Is  that  how 
you  try  to  turn  an  honest  })onny,  Su.^an  SharjR-?" 

Susan  iSharpe,  shrinking,  as  well  as  she  might,  from  the 
tiery  flashing  of  two  angry  blue  eves,  ni'irniurod  an  inaudibla 
something,  and  busied  herself  among  the  dishes. 

"  Listen  to  me.  woman,"  (^ried  Mollie,  ])ushing  back  her 
wild,  lo  'se  hair,  "  and  pitv  me.  if  you  have  a  woman's  heart. 
This  man — this  Dooto!-  Oleamler — led  me  into  a  triip,  in- 
veigled me  from  home,  brought  me  here,  and  keeps  me  here 
a  ])risoner. 
am  insane. 
and  I  am  almost  frantic  by  being  kept  here.     Help  mo  to  es- 


T'l  further  his  own  ba^e  ends  he  gives  out  that  I 
My  friends  are  in  the  greatest  distress  about  me. 


14^ 


THE    UNSEEN    BRIDEGROOM. 


cape — my  frluuda  in  Xiw  York  are  rich  and  |!ij«veri'til~-^.?p 
»ao,  Su:sa!)  Si)iuT"^,  ainl  you  will  ncvci-  know  WAitt  morol" 

M:-.s.  SLiiUii  IShai'}»e  luiil  keen  eaiu  E\i.:ii  in  (.ho  midst  of 
thia  excited  addit-ss  she  had  heard  a  flrulth;  footstep  on  tho 
creakinijj  fc:tai..-3 — a  footstep  (hat  had  ]'aused  jn:-t  outsido  tlio 
door.     i>hii  tiiok  lier  cue,  and  nnide  no  sign. 

"  I'm  V'.M'V  sorry,  miss."  sHghtly  ruisin^^  hor  voice — "  VGry 
Sony  for  \\''U,  indeed.  Wliat  you  say  mnv  bj  all  very  Iru", 
but  lu  makes  no  (li!)\rence  to  uv.  My  dutv'.-;  plain  eiiou;^!!. 
I'm  paid  for  it,  I've  promised  to  do  it,  and  I'll  do  it." 

"And  that  is— " 

"  To  wait  upfiji  you.  I'll  be  your  fa,illifu]  ii'L^'nuant  wliilo 
I'm  here;  but  to  help  youlo  oseup«:  J  ( iur't.  J)octor  Oleanilur 
tcil^  mn  you're  insane;  you  tell  me  yourself  you're  not  insane. 
T  suppose  y:  u  ou^ht  to  know  best:  but  I've  been  in  lunatic 
asyhinis  b.'fo.  e  nww,  and  I  never  yet  knew  one  of  'em  to  ad- 
mit there  was  anything;  tho  matter  with  'em." 

And  wi;h  this  cruel  speeili.,  Mrs.  Susan  Sharpe,  keeping 
her  eyes  anvwiiero  but  upon  Lho  youn^'  lady's  face,  lifted  the 
tray  and  turned  to  go. 

"  Is  there  anything'  I  can  do  f^r  you,  mi*^:-;?"  she  said, 
pausing  at  the  door.  "  Is  tijore  aiiythifig  nice  you  would  like 
for  supper?" 

But  M'.Hiio  did  not  reply.  TJltevly  bioken  down  by  fasting, 
and  impri.-ouuieut,  and  soldu;i,%  she  had  Ihuig  heri^eU'  ]iassinn- 
ately  on  the  lloor,  and  bin-st  out  into  a  wild  storm  of  hyster- 
ical weeping. 

"  I'm  very  sorry  for  you,  Miss  Dane,"  the  nurse  said  for 
tho  benelit  of  the  eavesdropper  witliout;  "but  my  duty's  my 
duty,  and  1  must  do  it.  I'll  fots.h  you  up  your  supper  ])res- 
ontly — a  cup  of  tea  will  cure  I  he  'sLerieks. " 

Siio  0[)ened  tlx^  door.  Mrs.  Oleander,  at  the  head  of  tho 
;:t;iiroase,  wa:?  making  a  great  show  of  having  just  eoine  up, 

"  They'll  be  the  d(  ath  of  mo  yet— those  stairs!"  she  panted. 
"  I  often  tell  my  son  I'm  not  llitid  to  mount  up  and  dov/n  a 
dozen  times  u  day,  Uijw  in  my  old  ago;  but,  la!  what  do  young 
men  care?" 

"  Very  true,  rua'aui,"  ro{)lied  tho  impertuibablo  nurse  to 
this  somowliat  obscure  speech. 

"  And  how's  youi'  pationt?"  continued  the  old  ladj. 

"  Very  bad,  ma'am — 'stcricky  and  wiW-like.     I  loft  her 
crying,  poor  siull" 
■"Crying!     i'or  what?" 
"  Ijecaiidu  1   woukin't  help  her  to  escape,  poor  dear!"  said 


THE    UKSKEN    PRIDEGROOM. 


143 


Mifi.  Klmr])0  in  a  tone  of  oommiocnitinn.  '' She's  grcally  to 
Lo  piiie.l." 

'*  Ahl"  said  j\tig.  Oleander,  rnrcl(v--3ly;  "  yoi.i  oouldu'l;  hrlp 
her.  yon  knew,  oven  if  vou  would.  Thcio's  iVtiT,  iind  h'ally, 
and  ine  on  llio  wafch  all  day  Ion;L',  und  from  nightfall  wo  li  fc 
JoDSO  Tigci*  and  ^'ero.  Tlu^y'd  tear  you  both  to  pieces  in  fivo 
niiniite?.  Tuli  lier  yo,  poor  creature,  if  she  talks  any  more  of 
CHe,''.p(>, " 

'*  1  will,  ma'tim,"  responded  tlie  respect fnl  Mrs.  .Sliurpe. 

Mrs.  Ok'ander  af^eended  tlio  stairs  and  went  to  her  own 
room,  yvvy  well  yalisfied  with  the  sulmiissive  and  discreet  new 
nurse;  and  the  new  nurse  descended  to  the  kitchen,  and  prc- 
])a!Td  her  patient's  sup]ier  of  tea  and  toa.st,  deli 'ate  sliced 
luua,  and  ra.sj»borry  preserves. 

Tlie  dusk  of  the  KunlctJS  afternoon  wii3  fallin;];  out-of-doors 
ere  her  jnep-arations  were  completed,  and  the  stair-ways  and 
halU^  of  the  dreary  hou^e  were  in  deepest  gloom  tis  she  re- 
turned to  her  patient's  room. 

fShe  found  that  uidiappv  little  patient  lying  prone  on  her 
face  on  the  lloor,  as  still,  a^  mot ir.nk .'•>•;  ;is  if  death  had 
hushed  forever  that  impulsive  heart.  She  nuulo  no  sign  c! 
having  heard  when  Jhs.  Sharpe  entered — she  )  'jver  movevl 
nor  lookeil  up  until  the  nurse  set  llie  tray  on  the  lable,  an  I 
stooping  over  her,  gave  her  a  gentle  shake. 

"  J\riris  j)aue,"  she  said  in  her  stolid  tones,  "  please  to  got 
nj).     Here's  your  supper." 

And  MoUie,  with  a  low,  wailing  cry,  raised  her  vran  fr.co 
and  llxed  her  blue  eyes  on  the  woman's  face  with  a  look  of 
pasisionate  reproach. 

"  Wliy  don't  you  let  me  alone?  Why  don't  yon  leave  me 
to  d'"?  Oh,  if  I  had  but  the  courage  to  die  by  my  own 
hamV/' 

"  J'lease  to  take  your  supper,"  was  ^Ira.  Sharpo's  practical 
answer  to  this  insane  outburst.     "  Don't  be  fooli  h." 

She  lifted  MoUit)  bodily  u{),  led  Iier  over,  scati  d  her  in  her 
chair,  poured  her  out  a  cup  of  tea,  and  made  her  drink  it, 
before  that  Imlf-distracted  cieature  knew  what  she  was  about. 

"  Now  take  another,"  s.iid  sensible  Mrs.  Sharpe;  "  tea  will 
do  you  a  power  of  go.d;  and  cat  something;  there's  nothing 
like  good,  wholesome  victuals  for  curing  ])f'ople  of  notions." 

Wearied  out  in  I)ody  and  mind,  Mullie  let  lierself  bo  catered 
for  in  .suluni'-isive  sileui'i'.  She  took  to  her  new  nur^e  as  sljo 
ha  I  nevr  lake?i  to  anyone  rho  in  this  horrid  h-ouso.  She 
hiul  :',  !undly  fai;o,  had  Mrs.  Suf^an  Sharpo. 

"  You  feel  bettor  now,  don't  you?"  said  that  worthy  worn- 


144 


THE    UNSEEN    rinDEGllOOM. 


an,  the  inoul  completed.  "  Suppose  yon  go  io  bed?  You 
look  tired.     Let  mo  i!iv)rf"'3  you  and  tuck  you  in." 

And  again  willful  Mollis?  submitted,  and  dropped  asleep  as 
soon  as  her  head  was  fairly  on  the  pilli>w.  Alotherly  Mrs. 
8harpe  "  tunked  her  in"  and  kissed  her,  and  then,  with  the 
remains  of  the  supper,  wont  dowu-stuirs  to  partake  of  her  own 
evening  repast. 

Mrs.  Oleander  took  tea  with  her  servants,  and  was  very 
g0S8ij>y  indeed.  So,  too,  was  old  Sally;  so,  likewise,  was  old 
Peter.  The  beverage  that  exhilarates  seemed  to  lighten  their 
aged  Isearts  wonderfully;  but  MrtJ.  Suijan  Sliurpo  did  not  thaw 
out  under  the  potent  spell  of  the  best  Knu'iish  breakfast  toa. 
Silent  and  attentive,  yhe  eat,  and  drank,  and  listened,  anil  re- 
sponded when  direetly  adiiressed;  an<l^  when  it  was  ovor, 
helped  Sally  to  clear  up,  and  then  pounced  upon  a  basket  of 
undarned  hose  under  the  table,  and  worked  away  with  a  will. 
Her  energy  and  good-will,  arid  the  admirable  maimer  in  which 
she  filled  up  the  holes  in  the  stockings  with  wondrous  criss- 
cross work,  quito  won  thu  hearts  of  both  Sally  and  Sally's 
mistress. 

The  clock  struck  nine;  work  was  laid  aside;  Mrs.  Oleander 
read  a  chapter  aloud  out  of  the  iiible,  an. I  they  then  all  ad- 
journed to  their  respective  chambers.  J)oors  and  windows 
had  been  secured  at  nii'litfull,  Tiger  and  Nero  liberated — their 
hoarse,  deep  growls;  every  now  an  i  then  making  night  hideous. 

Up  in  her  own  aj)artment,  Mrs.  Su;:an  Shar])e's  first  ac„ 
was  to  pull  up  tlie  curtain  and  seat  herself  by  the  window. 
The  night  was  pitch  dark — m-joniess,  starless — with  a  sighing 
wind  and  a  dully  moaning  sea.  It  was  the  desolation  of  utter 
desolation,  doivn  in  that  dismal  sea-side  prison — the  two  huge 
dogs  below  the  only  living  things  to  be  heard. 

*'  It's  enoug!:^  t-J  drive  any  one  mad,  this  horrible  place," 
said  Mrs.  Susan  iSharpe  to  lierself;  "and  the  very  weather 
seems  in  the  conspiracy  against  us." 

She  took  her  lamp  as  she  spoke,  and  hold  it  close  to  the 
window,  with  an  aiixious,  listening  face.  Its  solitary  red  ray 
streamed  far  out  over  the  black  road. 

Five,  ten,  fifteen  minutes  passed,  then  a  sound  rent  the 
.Uight  silence— a  long,  shrill,  sharp  whistle. 

"  Thank  the  Lord!"  said  Mrs.  Susan  Sharpe.  "  I  thought 
he  wouldn't  fail." 

She  dropped  the  curtain,  set  the  light  on  the  table,  knelt 
down  and  said  her  prayers,  rose  up  and  undrcsvsed  herself; 
and  then  this  extraordlAary  female  weut  to  bed  a  ad  to  sle«p. 


d; 
w 


TIJK    INSKF.N     IKllJl-UKOOM. 


14^ 


CUAPTER  XX. 

HUGH    INOKLOW    KEEPS  HIS    PKOMISE. 

Miis.  Si-SAX  SiiAHi'K  W118  Up  with  the  lark,  or,  laduT,  with 
tlui  ht'H-}^ulls  whirling  ami  shrieking  out  on  the  testing  wators. 
Tho  luilv  morning  sun  streamcil  in  tlu'  liltU'  chaailicr;  tliM 
wind  waiifil  |jlaiiilively  still,  and  thi'  dull  tiauip.  tianiji  of 
the  niullitudmout?  waves  kept  up  llicir  ceatjt'K'i-8  nfrait/. 

All  Was  yet  still  in  the  lone  farni-hon'-c — no  living  thing  was 
ffiiring,  not  even  the  nits,  that  hal  liold  hi^h  curiiival  all 
night.  J)own  in  tho  hack  yard  and  front  garden,  'J'iger  and 
Nci'u  pr.iuUid  about  their  heat,  surlily  gi/owling  at  the  toss-ing 
in  IS,  and  were  nionarchs  of  all  they  surveyed. 

Mrs.  8harpe  was  not  an  imaginative  person,  luckily.  She 
got  up  and  made  her  toilet,  and  s[>iashed  hiTRelf  Iniskly  in  a 
but^in  of  cold  water.  Tho  ell'oil  of  thctse  ahlutions  was  singu- 
lar— they  effected  a  total  cure  of  her  inllamed  eyelids. 

More  singular  still,  a  wig  of  ml  hair  stood  on  the  dressing- 
table,  and  Mrs.  .Sharpe's  cranium  was  adorned  with  a  respect- 
uble  growth  of  dark,  glossy,  brown  hair. 

"  If  they  only  saw  me  now,''  ?uil  Mrs.  SharjKi  to  herself, 
with  a  cluu'klo,  "  I  rather  think  tliev'd  op-n  their  old  eyes!" 

She  went  to  work  artistically — reddened  her  eyelids  over 
ag.iin,  carefully  adjusted  her  wig,  si  t  her  e;ip  on  it,  lixed  her 
specijicles  on  her  nose,  and  surveyed  herself  complacently  in 
tile  Clacked  chimney-glns's. 

"  ^'ou'U  do,"  said  Mrs.  Sli;irpo,  n  dding  'anill'arly  to  h 'r 
imiige.  "  You're  as  uglv  as  if  soniebodv  had  bes[)oke  yu. 
I  only  wonder  how  that  little  unfortunate  can  take  to  sui  L  • 
lookini;;  ol)ject — iind  she  does  take  to  me,  poor  dear!  And 
now  I'll  write  to  him.  lie's  sure  to  be  along  in  the  course  of 
tho  morning. " 

Taking  from  her  capacious  pocket  a  blank-book  and  a  lead- 
pene.il,  Mrs.  Susan  Sliar[>e  saL  down  and  wrote. 

And  thio  is  what  Mrs.  Sharpe  wrote: 

"She's  here,  and  safe  and  Will,  and  don't  know  mo  no 
more  than  the  dead.  B.iL  I  can'l  get  her  out.  Two  old 
women  and  one  old  man  are  on  the  vvatrh  all  day  long.  I 
darei\'t  sneeze  but  they  know  it.  And  betore  they  go  otf  the 
watch  there's  two  big,  savage  d.gs  goes  on,  and  prowl  about 
all  night.  1  don't  know  what  to  do;  tell  nje.  8he's  awful 
down-hearted,  and  ciiesj  luid  goeij  on.     i  lieard  your  whistle 


no 


TUK    UIN'SKEN    BiaiiEOliOOM. 


I'-^'  nij^iit.  Ilor  room  ia  next  to  mino— tlio  wi/ulnws  to  tho 
left.  If  voii  walk  on  tUo  hemli  muK  hl'i'  yoti;  .^Ijn  sits  at  ll»o 
UKi'loiv  all  (liiv.  i)octor  ().  i:s  goinn  to  t'liba  ia  ;i  wi-cL,  and 
going  to  tuko  hm*  witli  him;  so  you  had  bettor  bo  quick." 

I^Irs.  >Shar{)o  read  hor  own  composition  over  two  or  th'-i'o 
tinier,  with  a  satisiicd  look. 

"1  thnik  that,  will  do,"  sho  niurmurwl.  "Trust  liini  to 
find  a  way  out  of  a  li\,  and  we're  in  a  llx  now,  if  Ihevo  vwv 
v.'as  one.  Drat  tho  doyal  Jl  it  wasn't  for  them  I  could  get 
on  myself." 

^,\r.  Sliarpe  was  not  a  rapid  scribe.     It  liad  taken  her  a 
considerable  whilo  to  indite  this,  and  tho  liousihold  was  astir 
tSho  folded   it  up  in  the  binallest  possible    dimcnsiona,  a* 
wedged  it  into  her  thimble. 

"  A  bra.-'s  thimble  nnikcK  a  good,  strong  env(doiie,"  said  luu 
nurse,  with  a  grim  smile.  "  And  now  to  begin  my  day'a 
work." 

She  quitted  her  own  apartment  and  wont  into  that  of  her 
charge.  Mollio  was  still  aslee{) — sleeping  like  a  babe,  with 
]ij)s  ;vpart,  and  theeks  softly  ilushetl,  anil  looS',',  golden  hair 
falling  in  burni.^hed  ma.sses  over  the  pillow.  Involunlarily 
Mrs.  Sharjio  paused. 

"  She  looks  like  a  picture,"  sho  tiiought.  "  Ko  wonder 
he's  crazy  in  love." 

Tho  sound  of  tho  opening  door  awoke  th*'  light  sleeper.  Sho 
rfio  up  on  her  elbow  atnl  stared  around.  The  nurse  advanced 
wiiL  a  propitiatory  smile. 

"  Good-morning,  miss,"  Kho  said,  cheerfully.  "  I  hopo 
you  had  a  nice  bleep." 

"Oh,  id  ]t  you?"  said  Mollie.  "I.  was  drcamintr  1  was 
back  homo  with  guardy,  and  »Sir  Roger,  and  poor  Hugh,  and 
h.ere  I  am  still.  Oh!"  in  a  voice  of  bitter  anguish,  "  why  did 
yon  awako  me?" 

"  My  poor  dear,"  said  the  nurse,  touclied,  "  I  didn't  know, 
you  know,  or  I  vv^ouldn't.  There!  don't  thiid^  about  it 
now,  but  got  up,  liko  a  good  girl,  and  wasli  ;nid  dress  your- 
Golf,  and  have  your  breakfast  comfortable,  'j'liings  won't  be 
alwiiys  like  this,  you  know." 

Mollio  looked  wisi fully  at  her,  but  Mrs.  Sharpo  wasn't 
going  to  commit  herself,  with  no  certainty  but  that  listening 
ears  were  at  the  door. 

She  assisted  the  poor  prisoner  with  her  toilet,  combed  out 
and  curled  the  beautiful,  abundant  hair,  and  mado  hor  aa 
pr«tty  as  a  picture. 


THK    L'NSKEN    liHrDKCTlOOM. 


14? 


*' She'rt  lost  lior  rosy  clu'i;ky,  uiul  is  fiiilcd  ii'.vuy  tonotlii(i<T," 
mused  tlio  mirso.  "Only  for  that,  siioM  ha  the  lovehcafc 
thing  tho  Hiin  aiiiiicHon." 

"  And  iu.,\'  you're  ll.cod,  my  protty  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Sharpp, 
"  I'll  go  down  und  get  your  breakfast.  TSobody  oyer  I'ecid 
ri;iht  in  tho  niorniiig  on  un  eiupty  sLonnioh. " 

Down  in  tho  kitchen,  Mis.  Shaipe  foiiiui  thin;(s  in  a  lively 
state  of  jn'('|)aration — olTue  boiling,  steak  broiling,  toast 
making,  and  mnllins  baking.  Old  ."Sally,  in  a  stale  threaten- 
ing spontaneous  combustion,  bent  over  tho  lire,  and  Mrs. 
Oleander,  in  her  roeking-i  hair,  superintended. 

"  Are  you  only  getting  up  now?"  asked  the  doctor's 
mother,  susi)iciously. 

"  JJeon  up  these  two  hours,  ma'am,"  responded  Mrs. 
Sharpo.  "  I  tidied  up  myself  and  my  room,  and  then  tidied 
up  Miss  Dane  and  her'n.  1  came  dnwn  to  fetch  up  her 
breakfa.st." 

"  It's  all  ready,"  said  Sally.     "  Fetch  along  your  tray." 

So  Susan  Sharpe  fctihed  along  her  tray,  and  received  a 
bomitiful  supply  of  coU'eo  and  toast,  and  steak  and  mutlins. 

"There's  nothing  iiko  plenty  of  good  victuals  for  curing 
tho  vapors,"  observed  Sally,  sagely.  "  ^'ou  make  tho  young 
woman  oat  this,  Mrs.  Sharpe,  and  she'll   feel  better,  you'll 

SCO." 

Mrs.  Sharpo  smiled,  as  she  bore  off  her  burden,  at  tho  id(^u 
Sally  must  liave  of  one  little  girl's  ajipetite. 

Slie  foiMid  Moliie  sitting  at  the  window  gazing  at  the  sea, 
sparkling  as  if  sown  with  stars,  in  the  morning  sunshine. 

"  Is  it  not  beautifid?"  sho  saiil,  turning  to  the  nurse. 
"  Oh,  if  I  were  only  free  onee  more — fit  e  to  have  a  [ilunge  in 
that  snow-white  siu'f — free  to  have  a  bieezy  run  along  that 
delightfid  beach  this  magniliceiit  moridng?" 

Mrs.  Sharpe  set  down  her  tray,  looked  cautiously  aronnd 
her,  lowered  her  voice,  fixed  her  green-spoctaeled  eyes  mean- 
ingly on  Mollie's  face,  atid  uttered  these  remarkable  words: 

**  VVaitI     You  may  be  free  before  long!" 

"  What  do  vou  mean?"  cried  Moliie,  btarting  violently. 

"  Hush:     'Sh!  'sh!"  laying  her  hand  over  the  girl's  mouth. 

have    oars,   in    prisons.     Take  your 
her  voice.     "  It   will  do  you   no 
good,  acting  ugly  and  not  eating." 

Vor  tho  stairs  had  creaked  under  a  cautious,  ascending 
iDotstep,  and  Mrs.  Sharpe  h.-.d  iieard  that  creak. 

So,  too,  had  Moliie  this  time;  Mid  sho  turned  her  shining 
ejea  in  elo<^uent  silence  to  Mis.  Sharpe,  and  Mrs.  Sharpe  had 


"  Not  a  word.     Walls 
breakfast,   miss," 


raisnig 


148 


THE    UNSEEN    BRIDEOROOM. 


noilded,  and  smiled,  and  grimaced  toward  the  door  iu  a  way 
that  apoke  voliiuies. 

'*  I'm  goiiig  down  to  get  my  breakfii'^t,  now,"  she  said, 
authoriiuLively.  "  Lot  me  see  what  you'll  have  done  by  the 
time  1  get  back. " 

The  stairs  were  creaking  again.  Mrs.  Sharpe  did  not  liurry 
too  much,  and  Mrs.  Oleander,  all  panting,  was  back  in  her 
rocker  when  she  re-entered  the  kitchen,  trying  very  hard  to 
look  as  though  she  had  never  left  it. 

"And  how's  your  patient  to-day,  Mrs.  Sharpe?"  she  asked, 
as  soon  as  she  could  properlv  get  her  wind. 

"  Much  the  same,"  said  Mrs.  Shurpc,  with  brevity;  "  want* 
to  starve  herself  to  death,  crying  in  spells,  and  making  a 
time.     Let  lue  help  you." 

This  to  Sidly,  who  was  scrambling  to  get  half  a  dosK^n 
things  at  once  on  the  table.  Mrs.  Sharpe  came  to  the  rescue 
with  a  practiced  hand,  and  u])on  the  entrance  of  old  IVter, 
who  had  been  out  chaining  up  the  dogs,  the  quartet  imme- 
diately sat  down  to  breakfast. 

After  breakfast,  the  new  nurse  again  made  herself  generally 
useful  in  the  kitchen,  helped  Sally,  who  was  inclined  to  give 
out  at  the  knees,  to  "red  up,"  was^hcd  dishes  and  swe])t  the 
floor  with  a  brisk  celerity  worthy  of  all  praise. 

And  then,  it  being  wash-tlay,  she  wiiipped  «p  her  sleeves, 
displaying  two  lusty,  round  arms,  and  fell  to  with  a  will 
among  the  soiled  linens  and  steaming  soap-suds. 

"  1  may  as  well  do  something,"  she  said,  brusquely,  in  an- 
swer to  Mrs.  Oleander's  very  fj/mt  objeclii»ns;  "  there's  noth- 
ing to  do  ujjstairs,  and  she  tloesn't  want  me.  She  only  calls 
me  names." 

Su  Mrs.  Susan  Sharpe  rubbed,  and  wrung,  and  soaped,  and 
pounded,  and  boiled,  and  blued  for  three  mortal  hours,  and 
then  there  was  a  huge  basket  of  clothes  all  ready  to  go  on  the 
line. 

"Now,  ma'am,"  said  this  priceless  treasure,  "if  you'll 
just  show  me  the  clothes- litui,  I'll  hang  these  here  out." 

Mrs.  Oleander  pointed  to  two  long  ropes  strung  at  the  lower 
end  ot  the  back  yard,  and  Susan  Shar])e,  hoisting  the  basket, 
set  off  at  once  to  hang  them  to  dry. 

The  two  old  women  watched  her  from  the  window  with  ad- 
miring eyes. 

"She's  a  noble  worker!"  at  last  said  old  Sally.  "She 
'minds  mo  of  the  time  when  I  was  a  young  girl  myself. 
Dearie  me!  It  went  to  my  heart  to  see  her  rubbing  tliom 
8h«eta  and  things  ufs  if  Ibey  were  nothing." 


;::2E  unseen-  bridegroom. 


349 


/; 


i 


**  And  I  think  she's  to  be  trusted,  too,"  said  Mrs.  Oleander. 
"She  talks  as  sharp  to  that  girl  as  you  or  i,  Sally.  I 
ehouidii't  mind  if  we  had  her  here  for  good." 

Meantime,  the  object  of  all  this  commendation  had  marched 
across  the  yard,  and  proceeded  scientifically  to  hang  the  gar- 
ments on  the  line.  ]>ut  all  the  while  tlie  keen  eyes  inside  the 
green  spoetades  went  roving  about,  and  alighted  presently  on 
something  that  rewarded  her  for  her  hard  day's  work. 

It  was  a  man  emerging  from  the  pine  woods,  and  crossing 
the  waste  strip  of  maishland  that  extended  to  the  farm. 

A  high  board  fence  separated  the  back  yard  from  this  waste 
land,  and  but  few  ever  came  that  way. 

The  man  wore  the  dress  ami  had  the  pack  of  a  peddler,  and 
a  quantity  of  tow  hair  escaped  from  under  a  broad-brimmed 
hat.  The  brown  face  was  half  hidden  in  an  enormous  growth 
of  light  whiskers. 

"  Can  it  be?"  thought  Susan,  with  a  throbbing  heart.  "  1 
darsn't  speak,  for  them  two  old  witches  are  watching  from 
the  window." 

Here  the  peddler  espied  her,  and  trolled  out,  in  a  rich, 
manly  voice: 

"  Mv  fallier  he.  lias  lockod  the  door, 
"jMy  iiKillicr  keeps  (lie  kf>'; 
But  nciflier  bolt--  nor  bars  shall  part 
Mj'  own  tnio  luvc  and  uic." 

•'It  is  himi"  gasped  Mrs.  Susan  Sharpe.  "Oh,  good 
gracious  I" 

'*  Good-day  to  you,  my  stra]iping  lass.  J  low  do  you  find 
yourself  this  blessed  morning?" 

Susan  Sharpe  knew  there  were  listening  ears  and  looking 
eyes  in  the  kitchen,  and  for  their  bcmtu    ho  retort*  d: 

"It's  no  business  of  j'ours  how  J  am!  Be  oil  with  you! 
We  don't  allow  no  vagrants  here!" 

"  But  r  ain't  a  vagrant,  my  duck  o'  diamonds.  I'm  a  re- 
epectable  Yankee  peddler,  trying  to  turn  an  honest  penny  by 
selling  kni(!kknacks  to  the  fair  sect.  Do  liit  me  in,  there's  a 
pretty  dearl  You  hain't  no  idee  of  the  lovdy  things  I've  got 
m  my  pack — all  dirt  cheap,  too!" 

"  1  don't  want  nothing,"  said  Mrs.  Sus^an  Sharpe. 

"  But  youi  ma  does,  my  love,  or  your  elder  sister,  which  1 
see  *Gm  at  the  winder  tliis  minute.  Now  do  go,  there's  a 
lamb,  and  ask  your  ma  if  I  mayn't  come  in." 

Mrs.  Sharpe  dropped  her  basket  in  a  pot  and  stalked  back 
to  the  house. 

"  It's  a  peddlor-man,"  she   sakl,  crossly,   "  a- wanting  to 


1.50 


THE    ITNSKEN    BinirEOKOOTJ, 


conu'  in.  I  t'Ai\  him  ho  couldn't,  iinJ  it's  of  no  use;  unci  the 
befit  thing  you  (jiii  do  is  to  foi  the  dop;s  on  him." 

*'  No,  nol"  criod  Mrs.  Oli'atidur,  slirillv.  '*  Lot  him  come 
in.  1  likfi  peddlers,  (io  with  her,  Sally,  and  toll  the  nnui  to 
come  round  tf>  the  c^ti/den  gate." 

"  I'll  tell  him,"  8iiid  Hiisiin  Sharpe,  stalking  out  again. 
"  IjPt  Sally  go  and  open  I  he  gate." 

She  manhcvl  across  the  yard  and  addressed  the  "  peiambu- 
latitig  merchant." 

"  You're  to  go  round  to  tlie  fi'ont  gate.  'I'liis  way.  I've 
a  note  for  you  in  my  thimble.  I'll  drop  the  thimble  in  your 
box." 

The  first  liiilf  of  Mr?.  Bharpe'a  s[)pfoli  was  given  for  the 
benefit  of  Mrs.  Oleander'^  gi't'i-'dy  ear.s — thj  latter  half,  hur- 
riedly and  in  a  low  voice,  for  hi.s  own. 

The  tagaciou.j  peddler  nodded,  struck  up  a  second  stave  of 
his  dittv.  and  trudged  roimd  tj  the  front  gate. 

Mr.s.  Shai-pe  fmiishod  luuiging  out  the  clothes  before  she  re* 
entered  the  kitchen.  When  t-he  did,  there  sat  the  peddler 
displaying  his  Tvaies,  and  expatiating  volubly  on  their  trans- 
cendent mei'it.s.  And  there  stood  Sally  and  ]\lrs.  Oleander, 
devouring  the  contents  of  the  box  with  greedy  eyes. 

It  is  not  in  the  heait  of  wom.'ii — country  women,  particu- 
/arly— to  resist  the  faseimitions  of  the  pwldler's  pack. 

Alrr..  Ole.tndcrand  her  old  .servant  were  rather  of  the  strong, 
minded  order;  b'.it  tiicir  eyes  gli.srened  avariciously,  for  alt 
that,  at  the  display  of  combs,  and  brushes,  and  liaiidkcr- 
chiefs,  anil  liblioiis,  iind  gaudy  print-:,  and  stockings,  and  cot- 
ton clolh,  and  all  tlic  inuumcrabi>'o  tiiat  peddlers  do  didight  in. 

"  This  red-and-black  silk  handkerchief,  ma'am,"  the  ped- 
dler was  crying,  holding  up  a  gay  Kcjuare  of  silk  tartan,  "  is 
<:nie  fifty,  and  dirt  cheap  at  tliat.  Seein'  it's  you,  nuv'am, 
however,  I'll  take  a  dollar  for  it.  Wuth  two — it  is,  by  gin- 
gcrl  Sold  three  dozens  i,n  'cm  down  the  village,  arrl  got  two 
dollars  apiece  for  'em,  every  one." 

"  I'll  take  it  at  a  dollar,"  said  Mrs.  Oleander.  "  Sally, 
that  piece  of  brown  n:'.  iino  would  just  suit  you." 

"Makes  up  lovely,  ma'am."  said  the  peddler,  turning  to 
Sully,  *' only  four  liollars  for  the  hull  piece.  Jest  feel  of  it 
—SI  ft  us  a  baby's  t.kin.  llallool  miss,  wluit  can  I  do  for 
yo'  i" 

.'his  last  to  Susuu  Sharjio,  who  liad  fxt  down  her  baeke^,, 
a))d  was  looking  on. 

**  Nothing,"  replied  Susaii,  vrilh  asperity. 

"  Oh,  uow,  dou  t  you  say  that!"  exclaimed  this  j[)ersuMiTe 


THE    UKSEKN    liRIUEOROOM. 


151 


the 

lino 

to 

i.'n. 
jii- 


the 


IS 


i^'iii- 


maii;  "  >oh  do  want  ijuthiu' — lots  o'  thinga—T  kiu  m^  it  In 
t!iem  ail  sparklin'  eyas  o'  your'n.  WImt  juiikojj  you  wear 
grt-eu  gluswH.  Nee  here,  I've  blue,  and  whito,  and  fancy 
(iiolors,  wilii  silver  alniddlcs  for  the  noBe.  JJo  look  at  'em — 
there's  ;i  lovol" 

Mrs.  Olt'atider  laughed,  and  Mrs.  iSharpe  so  far  unbent  her 
SiUdterity  as  to  kiicel  doui:  and  b(;L'"!n  rnnaunging  the  mii'.iel- 
hmeoiiri  articles. 

I'ho  peddler'ri  quick  eye  ne\er  hft;  licr  hands;  and  svhrn  ho 
lioiiid  the  tiny  click  of  something  failitig,  an  intelligent  fla.sh 
fchi)t  froiu  him  to  the  obnoxious  green  gla.-si  6. 

"1  want  a  thimble,"  buid  Mrs.  >Sharpe,  wilh  phhgm. 
"I've  lost  mine.  How  much  do  yru  ask  for  these  here, 
mister?" 

"  Three  cents  apiece." 

Sii.san  paid  down  the  three  cents,  pocketed  the  brass  thim- 
ble, and  slowly  rose. 

"Ko  more  to  sell  to-day,"  said  the  peddler,  bundling  up 
with  celerity.  "  So  you  won't  take  the  brou  ti.  ma'am?  Sorry 
wc  can't  make  a  trade;  but  Til  run  up  a-;, in  Lo-niorrnw  with 
a  new  lot,  and  I've  no  doubt  we  can  strike  a  baigain.  <iood- 
morni ng,  ladies." 

Witli  wiiich  Mr 
away,  singing.  Old  Peter  Ii't  him  out,  and  locked  the  gate 
after,  and  watched  him  out  of  .«ight.  The  ji  Idler  ceased  his 
song  the  moment  he  was  out  of  hearing,  struck  int'i  the  wood« 
the  instant  ho  was  out  of  sight,  and  Hinging  his  ])aek  on  the 
griiHS,  tore  it  open. 

Ife  had  not  long  to  ieareh — Mrs.  .Sharpu's  ta^ni^^hl'  1  old 
tliimble  was  consj)icuous  enough  among  his  glistenins'  :.cw 
oneH.  J  To  lishful  it  np,  pf)ked  cut  the  crumpled  bit  of  j  ajicr. 
and  slowly  read  it  through.  When  read,  ho  tore  it  into  lif;y 
morsels,  and  S(;attored  them  in  a  white  shuwer  nil  about. 
M'lien,  with  knitted  brows  and  compressed  li]>i,  he  sat  un<l 
thought  and  thought  for  a  full  hour. 

Meanwhile,  matters  went  on  smoothly  behind  him.  Mis. 
Sharpe,  having  tinisheil  the  wushing,  and  ([uite  won  tlie  hearts 
of  the  two  old  women  by  her  workiuiudike  manner,  jiivparod 
lier  patient's  dinner,  and  brought  it  up. 

On  this  0(!ca.-!io(i  Mrs.  Olciuider  undertook  to  accomp.iny 
her.  They  found  that  refraetory  patient  at  her  usual  })Ost — 
the  window — ga^dng  with  drciimy,  em|)ly  eyts  over  the  cease- 
less sea. 

.Susan  Shiirpo  was  strictly  on  her  guard;  her  austere  face 
Buver  uuboutj  and  Molliu  took  her  cue  ouce  more. 


Peddler  shouldend  his  pack  and  trudged 


152 


THE    UNSEEN    BRIDEGROOM. 


"Here's  yonr  dinner  nii^s,"  eho  said,  briofly:  "is  there 
anything  I  can  do  for  yon?  ' 

'*  Nothing,"  replied  Mollie,  sullenly.  "  Only  leave  me 
alone.     J  never  want  to  uee  t'iilit'r  of  your  ngly  old'  faces." 

She  tamed  her  back  upon  them  as  she  t-poke,  and  never 
turned  round  until  they  had  ({uitted  the  room. 

"  She's  a  little  imp,  if  there  ever  was  a  little  im))  yet,"  said 
Mrs.  Oleander,  spitefully.  "Does  she  always  treat  you  like 
that?" 

"  Worse,  mostly,"  said  the  imperturbable  Susan;  "  but,  la! 
I  don't  mind;  I'm  used  to  'em." 

"  Do  you  think  she'll  ever  get  better?'* 

"  I  think  it's  very  likely,  ma'am,"  respondwl  Mrs.  Sharpe. 
*'  Your  cross  ones  are  always  the  likeliest.  But,  of  course,  I 
can't  say." 

All  that  long  afternoon  Mollie  was  left  quite  alone.  Mrs. 
Sharjje  never  came  jiuar  her.  This  inditlerence  on  the  jiart  of 
the  nurse  quite  disarmed  Mrs.  Oleander's  suspicions.  If  she 
had  any  wish  to  curry  favor  with  her  son's  patient,  or  help 
her  to  escape,  surely  slie  would  not  sit  there  in  the  kitchen, 
hemming  her  new  silk  handkerchief,  all  the  while.  That  was 
what  Susan  did,  however,  and  the  weary,  weary  hours  of  the 
warm,  sunny  day  wore  blankly  on  to  poor,  lone  Mollie. 

The  horrible  stillness  of  the  place  seemed  driving  lier  mad. 
The  endless  monotony  of  the  waves  r'lling  up  on  the  beach 
was  growing  unendurable.  ^I'he  wild  waste  of  sparkling 
waters,  ending  in  the  low  horizou  line,  wearied  her  eyes  like 
the  sands  of  tlie  desert. 

**  I  shall  lose  all  the  Hi  tie  reason  I  ever  had  if  I  am  kept  in 
this  howling  de^^olation  mir  !i  longer,"  she  said,  pressing  her 
hands  to  her  throbbing  temjtles.  *'  Oh!  to  shut  out  this 
mocking  sunshine — to  lose  sight  of  this  dreary  waste,  where 
no  living  thing  comes!  Oh,  to  get  away  from  thalhoriible 
sea!  If  1  could  only  die  and  enditalll  lint  I  live  on,  and 
live  on  where  others  would  he  hapf»ier  and  find  death." 

Slie  sighed  wearilv,  and  looked  acioss  at  the  radiant  western 
sky,  gorgeous  with  the  coming  siuiset. 

"  What  did  that  wf)man  mean?  Did  she  mean  aiiything? 
Yes,  1  am  sure  she  did,  and  she  has  come  In  re  to  ht  Ij)  me  to 
escape.     Oh,  Heaven  have  pity,  and  ^rant  me  freedom  onoe 


more!" 


She  clapped  her  hands  and  sat  tlieie  like  one  out  of  kerself, 
while  the  moments  wore  en.  Pur()le  and  gold  made  the  west- 
3rn  sky  luminous  with  glory,  and  when  the  gorgeous  llames 
were  at  thoir  brightest,  unJ  the  sea  turning  to  a  lake  oi 


THE    UNSEEN'    BRIDEGROOM. 


153 


blood-red  fire,  a  little  white  bf>at,  with  a  blue  pennant  flying, 
shot  out  of  the  red  light  and  drifted  close  to  the  shore. 

Mollie  fixed  her  eyes  oti  ihis  tiny  skill' — why,  she  could  not 
Jiavo  told.  Boats  passed  and  repassed  often  enough,  but  sel- 
dom so  close  to  the  shore.  The  beauty  of  the  little  bark  at- 
tracted her,  nestling  as  it  did  like  a  white  dove  on  the  water, 
and  that  fairy  azure  banner  flying. 

A  solitary  figure  sat  in  the  boat,  his  face  turned  her  way; 
but  the  distance  was  too  great  for  her  to  distinguish  that  face. 
A  word  in  white  letters  she  could  see  on  the  blue  flag;  but 
agnin  the  distance  was  too  great  for  her  to  distinguish.  She 
sat  and  watched  and  watclio<J,  until  the  opening  of  the  door 
startled  her.  She  turned  round  and  saw  Susan  Sharpe — this 
time  alone. 

"  Look  there  I"  said  Mollie,  obeving  a  sudden  impulse; 
'■'  did  you  ever  see  anything  so  pretty?" 

The  nurse  looked — bent  her  brows  and  looked  again.  Her 
face  flushed — she  caught  her  breath. 

"  Who  is  the  man?"  she  aske<l.  hurriedly,  lowly. 

"  1  don't  know,"  in  the  t;amo  breathless  way.  "  He  is 
watching  here — but  the  disfance  is  so  great.     Oh,  nurse — "' 

She  did  not  finish  the  sentence,  but  with  hands  clasped  and 
lips  parted,  stood  looking  imploringly  in  the  woma?i'a  face. 

"  Wait  a  minute,"  said  Mrs.  Susan  Shurpe;  "  there  is  no 
one  on  the  watch  this  time,  thank  the  Lord  I  Mrs.  Oleander's 
down  with  the  toothache." 

She  left  the  room — was  abso-nt  in  her  own  two  or  three  min- 
utes— then  returned  with  a  pocket  telescope  in  her  hand. 

"  Try  this,"  she  sfiid,  rjuietlv;  "  it's  small,  but  it's  power- 
ful." 

She  put  it  in  the  girl's  hand.  Mollie  turned  eagerly  to  the 
window — the  boat  and  the  man  were  near  enough  now.  The 
word  on  the  blue  I'ag  was  lloj)";  the  face  of  the  man  was  still 
toward  her,  true  as  the  m  edle  to  the  north  star.  With  the 
first  look  she  recognizc*d  it.  A  low  cry  of  amaze,  and  she 
(lroj){»ed  the  gla8«,  and  stood  all  trembling  with  the  sudden 
joyful  shock. 

For  it  was  the  face  she  had  sighed  for,  day-time  and  nigh*; 
time — it  was  the  man  she  loved.     It  was  Hugh  Ingolow. 


CnAPTER  XXL 

MRS.    SHARl'F.    DOES    HER    niTY. 

"  YoLT  know  that  man,  raisf;?"  Mrs.  Sharpe  said,  ineifablj 
calm^  stooping  to  pick  up  the  glass. 


154 


THE    UNSKEN    BIIIDEGKOOM. 


Mollio  tuniod  to  her  with  eyes  wild  and  wide. 

"  I  l\now  him — yes.  And  you —  Oii,  for  pity's  suko,  suy 
you  know  hiui,  tool" 

"  [low  on  etirtli  can  I  say  so  until  I've  seen  him?"  said 
Mrs.  Sharps^  poi?in;if  li'.-r  glass  and  (;la|i[)iiig  her  eye  to  it,  ono 
hand  over  the  other,  ai'ter  the  fashion  vf  tlie  sex. 

tSJin  took  u  lonif  look. 

'-'  Well:-"'  Molli.;  pan  fed. 

Mr.^.  Susan  Sharjic  turned  to  lier  with  a  sin;,'ular  smile— a 
sniili;  that  made  luminous  the  sallow  faeo  and  ^'loriiied  the 
green  speetacles. 

Just  then  the  stairs  creaked  under  a  cautious,  ascending 
tread. 

"  It's  fSally,"  said  Mrs.  Shavpe,  not  moving  a  muscle. 
"  Eat  your  supper,  and  keep  your  eyes  (>IT  ihe  window  if  she 
comes  iu.  Kii'i)  uj)  heart,  and  think  of  the  word  on  the  blue 
banner— hope. " 

8he  turned  awaya:id  abru])tly  opened  the  door  as  she  spoke. 
There  stood  old  Sally,  with  the  eyes  of  a  watohing  eat. 

"  Oh,  dear  mel"  exclaimed  the  ancient  handmuidenof  Mrs. 
Oleander,  very  mur;li  di;(;om|)(>seil  by  this  abrupt  prot;eediug 
"  How  you  do  startle  a  body  with  your  (juick  ways!     Is  Mrs. 
Oleander  in  here?" 

"  No,"  sail  Su^an.  "  IIow  could  Mrs.  Oleander  be  here 
when  I  left  her,  live  minutes  ago,  half  crazy  with  toothache?" 

"  Well,  she  left  the  kitchen  after  you,  and  came  up,  and  I 
thought  she  might  have  drop[)ed  in  to  see  tiie  young  wom- 
an," libbed  Sally.     "  How  is  she?" 

"  Suppose  you  drop  iu  and  see  for  yourself,"  responded  the 
nurse,  provoked  into  being  pert  to  her  elders.  "  Miss  Dane, 
here's  a  visitor  for  you." 

Mollie  turned  round  from  the  table,  where  she  sat  taking 
her  evening  meal. 

"  1  don't  want  you  or  your  visitors,  Mrs.  Sharpe,  if  that  be 
your  name,"  said  the  irascible  patient.  "  "i'ou're  all  a  set  of 
old  tal)!)y  cats  together,  aiul  if  you  don't  clear  out,  I'll  lling 
something  at  your  head!" 

She  bounced  from  her  chair  as  she  spoke  and  brandished  the 
tea-put. 

VVitii  a  howl  of  dismay,  old  Sally  turned  tail  and  iUd  in- 
(^ontiiionfjy.  .Ju-",t  wailing  to  ext'liange  one  approving  glaiu^o 
with  her  put'ont,  the  nuroe  tli.inght  it  prudent  tf)  folhuv  her 
example. 

TJiis  liltlf!  incident  had  one  r-alutary  eri-rl.  U  frightened 
'5ally  out  of  her  feeble  old  .vits,  confirming,  as  it  did.  Dr. 


THE    rXREEN    ]5UII)^•GR00^r. 


m 


llio 


Guy's  fablo  of  the  poriodiciil  fits  of  marlnoss  to  wiiioh  the 
young  lutly  was  prorio.  She  rc'latc;d  to  hur  mistress,  in  slirill 
falsetto,  what  hail  occur  red. 

"  And  if  ever  J  go  near  tiie  crazy  little  huKsy  again,  as  lon^f 
as  «Ir's  under  this  roof,"  concluded  Sally,  wildly,  "  I'm  a 
DutchmanI" 

"  Weren't  you  friglitened?"  Mrs.  Oleander  asked,  turning 
to  the  nurse. 

"  Oil,  not  much!"  said  the  serene  Susan.  "  I'm  used  to  it, 
you  know,  i  coidd  have  dodged  if  she  had  heaved  the  tea- 
]wt.     She  takes  them  tantrums  once  or  twice  u  day." 

MoUie  spent  the  ev(  ling  alone,  of  course,  but  in  despair  no 
longer.  Hope  had  planted  her  shining  foot  on  tlie  threshold 
of  her  heart,  and  for  the  time  she  coulil  fo-'get  she  was  the 
most  miriciable  wife  of  Dr.  fdeander,  in  the  face  of  freedom. 
And  U'lgh  Ingelow  was  near,  and  she  1ov(h1  Hugh.  Oh, 
if  she  had  never  refused  him — l))avest,  noblest  heart  that 
ev'er  beati  the  most  gener()us  gentleman  the  Creator  ever 
niiide! 

Alone  MoUie  sat—alone,  but  lonely  no  longer;  for  yonder, 
drifting  lazily  iiito  the  netting  tide,  the  sunset  glovviug  above 
and  around  it,  iloaled  the  snow-white  i^kill.  Jn  the  amber 
mist  iluttered  the  banner  of  blue — the  l)anner  of  hope — and 
there,  lounging  easily,  with  his  face  tinned  to  her,  was  the 
m.in  she  loved,  iiandt^ome  Hugh  I  lier  beloved — her  darlingi 

"  And,  (»hl  that  I  were  by  his  side,"  Mollie  exclaimed,  in 
her  rhaj)-;ody,  "  never,  never  to  leave  it  again." 

Solitude  a«d  imprisonment  had  done  this  willful  chil',!  some 
gooil,  you  see.  'J'hey  had  taught  her  to  think — to  know  her- 
s.lf.  She  never  could  be  the  same  crude,  madcap  ilollio 
ag;i:in. 

The  last,  low,  yellow  gleam  died  out  of  the  sunset — slowly 
crept  uj)  the  twilight,  2)alely,  gemmed  with  stars.  A  round, 
reij  moon  showed  its  crimson  disk  above  the  silvery  iiorizon 
li/ie,  whitening  as  it  aro;;e,  until  it  trailed  a  tlootl  of  crystal 
r:idian(;e  over  the  purple  bosom  of  the  slei'ping  sea.  And  still 
Millie  sat  tliere,  watihing  the  sliining  stars  creep  out,  and 
still  the  fairv  bark  lloaJed  lazily  with  the  ilrifting  current. 
She  i;ould  have  sat  there  and  watched  him  "  >rever — her  noble, 
gallant  Hugh!  Hut  by  and  by,  as  the  night  wind  grew  chill, 
tli(*  little  white  bnul  glided  away  arid  di-^;ippi'ured. 

The  entrance  of  iMts.  Sliarpo,  with  her  night-himp,  aroused 
I^-Iollic  from  iier  tmnee.  She  turned  eagerly  round  to  greet 
her.  T^'ext  to  Hugli  Ingelow,  her  hope  now  was  in  this  mys" 
teriouB  woman. 


W6 


THE    UNSEEN    BRIDEGROOM. 


Mrs.  Sharpe  closed  the  door  carefully  after  her,  set  the  lamp 
on  the  table,  dropped  the  curtain,  and  then  turned  her  face 
to  Mollie.  One  look  at  that  face  told  Mollie  something  had 
oecurrod. 

*'  What  is  it?"  she  asked  in  a  breathless  whisper. 

And  Susan  Sharpe,  bending  down,  whispered  hurriedly; 

"  Doctor  Oleander  is  here." 

Mollio  barely  repressed  a  cry.  Susan  Sharpe  caught  her,  m 
alarm,  by  the  shoulder. 

"  Hush!  Avo  YOU  crazy?  Not  a  word.  Yes,  he's  down- 
stairs— came  half  an  hour  ago.  J)on't  look  so  frightened — he 
won't  trouble  you  this  time." 

"  This  time,"  repeated  Mollie,  noticing  the  emphasis. 
"  What  do  you  mean?" 

"  That  he  was  only  run  down  to  see  how  wo  get  along,  and 
to  tell  us  to  bo  all  ready  for  an  early  start.  Wo  are  going  to 
Cuba." 

"  We?" 

"  Yes,"  with  a  grim  smile  and  nod,  "  we.  You,  and  me, 
and  Doctor  Oleander. " 

''  Oh,  nurse—" 

"  Hush!  Jlear  mo  out — I  can  stay  but  a  minute.  lie  is 
going  to  take  you  to  Cuba.  Ilis  affairs  are  nearly  arrangcJ. 
He  means  to  start  on  Friday  night — this  is  Tuesday.  A 
schooner  will  be  in  waiting  at  tlie  wharf,  in  the  village  yon- 
der. I  am  to  go  with  you  as  attendant.  lie  is  very  muck 
pleased  with  me,  and  J  have  consented." 

Mrs.  Sharpe  laughed  softly. 

"  Hut,  nurse—" 

"  Yes,  yes;  be  still.  We  won't  go — be  sure  of  that.  ITo 
wanted  to  come  up  to  see  you,  but  1  told  him  ho  had  better 
not,  if  ho  wanted  to  have  you  quiet  when  the  time  came.  So 
he  goes  olf  again  to-night  without  troubling  you." 

Mollie  clasped  her  hands  in  thankfulness. 

"  fl  >w  can  I  thank  yaw?    Ilo^v  good  you  are!*' 

"  Thank  me  by  going  straight  to  bed  and  sleeping  like  a 
top.  Let  the  thought  that  it  is  likely  to  bo  your  last  night 
under  this  accursed  roof  be  your  lullaby.  And  now  I  must 
go." 

Mollie  held  up  her  rosy  lips — tempting  and  sweet — and  the 
woman  stooped  and  kissed  her. 

"You  are  my  best  friend,"  Mollie  said,  simply.  "God 
bless  you!" 

The  woman  smiled. 

"  Nay,  the  kiss  and  the  blessing,  if  meant  for  your  best 


had 


THE    UNSEEN    KRIDEGROOM. 


u: 


frlentl,  should  have  been  kept  for  Iluyh  Ingelow.     1  but  obey 
his  oi-ders. " 

Mollie  turned  riidianlly  red.  Mra.  Susan  Sliarpo,  with  a 
Bigaiticant  smile  ut  her  own  keennoiisi,  imrueuiateiy  quilt'jd  tho 
room. 

Dr.  Oleiinilor  did  not  disturb  Mollie.  lie  departed  half  an 
hour  after  Mrs.  hhariie  (juittid  lier  for  the  night.  'J'iie  ac- 
count his  mother  and  Sally  gave  of  the  nurse  made  him  dis- 
])oscd  to  trust  her. 

"  1  will  take  her  witli  me,"  ho  tliought,  "  since  she  is  so 
trustworthy.  It  would  be  too  horribly  dreary  for  Mollie  wilh- 
oiit  one  comjianion  of  her  own  sex." 

So  he  ollered  liberal  terms,  and  Mrs.  Sharpo  cloaod  with  his 
oft'er  readily  enough. 

"  I'd  as  lief  go  to  Cuba  as  not,"  she  said,  in  her  sedate  way. 
*'  One  place  is  the  same  as  another  to  me.  J5ut  it's  very  soon 
to  be  ready." 

"  Never  mind,"  roplied  the  doctor.  "  We'll  find  dry-goods 
stores  in  Havana,  1  dare  say,  and,  meantime,  I'll  provide 
some  ready-made  things  from  New  York." 

Dr.  Oleander  departed  very  wtdl  satisfied.  He  would  have 
liked  very  much  to  see  Mollie,  but  his  approach  always  threw 
her  into  such  a  fury,  and  he  wanted  her  kept  as  quiet  as  pos- 
sible until  the  hour  of  departure. 

"  I'll  have  to  res(>rt  to  tho  vulgar  alternative  of  chloroform, 
1  dare  say,"  he  thought.  "  bhe'll  make  a  fight  for  it  at  the 
last.     I  can  (piiet  her,  however." 

And  so  Dr.  Oleander  went  back  to  New  York  without  one 
suspicion  that  his  Jiew  nurse  was  })laying  him  false. 

Within  an  hour  after  breakfast,  the  j)eddler  presented  him- 
self next  morning.  Again  Mrs.  CHeander  and  Sally  were 
vividly  interested,  and  again  each  purchased  stauething. 
Again  Mrs.  Sharpc  said  slie  wanted  ni)thing,  and  again  t^he 
knelt  down  to  examine  tho  contents  of  the  pack.  The  peddler 
])resried  his  goods,  Mrs.  Sharpe  obdurately  declined.  He  ])er- 
sisted,  Mrs.  Sharpe  grew  angry. 

"  Take  these  here  gloves,  then,  for  massy  sake!"  cried  tho 
peddler  in  desperation,  "  ef  yer  won't  take  notliiu'  else. 
They're  tho  richest  of  silk  gloves,  and,  bein'  it's  you,  oidy 
fifty  cents.     Just  you  feel  of  'em." 

Ho  looked  Mrs.  Sharpe  full  in  tho  face.  She  took  the 
gloves — a  slip  of  paper  was  to  be  felt  inside — a  moment's  de- 
mur, then  she  purchased  and  put  them  in  her  pocket. 

The  peddler  departed;  Mrs.  Sharpo  went  upstairs,  and  drew 
forth  the  slip  of  paper.     There  were  but  three  lines: 


1,-i.S 


THK    UNSEEN     BUinKGEOOM. 


"  Meet  mo  this  nffcrnoon  at  two.  I  '.vill  ho  waiting  in  tliei 
woods  near  the  shoio,  wluM-e  you  saw  my  boat  ycrflerday.  1 
know  ho  Wii.^  witli  yon  laat  night." 


Mrs.  Sliarpo  read  tliis,  destroyed  it,  and  ^at  runiinalinff. 

"  What  if  they  won't  let  me  go?  lint  no,  tliey  wouldn't 
daro  ivoej)  mo  a  })ris'oner,  and  if  it  canio  to  lldticulTs,"  smiling 
to  herself,  '*  I  eould  heat  the  thi'ce  of  tin  in — poor  old  hodiet;! 
I'll  go  by  strategy,  if  })0s.sible — by  main  force,  if  necesiiary. 
But  I'll  go." 

l''ivo  minutes  longer  the  nurse  sat  thinking.  'J'hen  she 
arose,  walked  down-stairs,  and  comphiined  drearily  of  a  t-:lioi;k- 
ing  bad  headache. 

Airs.  Oleander  reeomminided  a  wonnin's  cure — a  cup  of 
strong  tea  and  going  to  l)ed.  JUit  Su.^an  Shar[»e  ^luok  her 
head. 

"  Tea  never  does  mo  no  good,  and  going  to  bed  only  makes 
me  worse.  I  suppose  it's  .^taving  in-doors  so  much.  I  ain't 
used  to  it.  I  always  take  a  svalk  every  afternoon.  I'll  wait 
and  see  if  it  gets  better.  If  it  don't,  I'll  go  and  take  a  litMo 
walk  along  the  shore.  A  mouthful  of  fresli  air  will  do  mo 
good." 

Mrs.  Sharpe  waited  accordingly,  but  the  headache  did  not 
get  better.  On  the  contrary,  it  grew  so  much  worse  that 
when  tiie  one-o'clo(!k  dinner  was  ready,  she  was  unable  to  eat 
a  naouthful.  iiho  lay  with  her  head  on  the  table  in  a  sort  of 
stupor. 

"  1  think  you  had  better  take  a  walk,"  .said  ]\rr.s.  Oleander, 
who  was  not  an  iil-natured  old  wonnin  on  ttie  whole.  "  I 
don't  want  you  to  be  laid  up  on  our  hands." 

Mrs.  Sliarpe  glanced  at  Iho  clock;  it  wanted  a  (juarter  of 
two.     She  lose  at  once. 

"  I  think  I  must,  or  I'll  be  fit  for  nothing  for  a  week.  I'll 
go  and  put  on  my  things." 

In  live  minutes,  Susan  Sharj)e  walked  out  of  the  garden 
gate  and  down  to  the  shore.  Old  I'eter  closed  the  gate, 
watched  her  out  of  sight,  and  went  back  to  the  house,  unsus- 
pectingly. 

Mrs.  Sharpy  sauntered  slowly  over  the  sandy  beach  to  the 
strip  of  dark  woods,  skirted  them,  to  avoid  being  seen  from 
the  windows  of  the  house,  and  called: 

"  Mr.  Ingelow." 

"  Here,"  answered  a  voice,  and  the  peddler  emerged  from 
i'he  trees  and  stood  beside  her.     "  You're  a  treasure,  Mrs. 


f 


THE    UNSEEN    BKTDEnnOOV. 


159 


kXisan  Sharpo,"  said  the  pcddlor — "  worth  your  wciylit  in 
crown  diamonds.     How  is  she?" 

"  As  well  as  cun  be  expected.  A  good  deal  the  better  for 
so'^iti','  you  from  her  window  laHh  evenin;:j. " 

"  1  Huw  you  both  sviitidjitig.  8he  knows  I  liavo  come  to 
rc.-K'tio  hor?" 

"  Of  course.     She  is  a  woman." 

"  IJot's  she  recognize  yon?'' 

"  No,"  with  a  huigh.  "  >She  called  me  her  best  friend  last 
night.     If  she  osily  i\newl" 

"  She  would  still  call  you  her  best  friL-nd,  perhaps.  Your 
'  niaku-up  '  i^  a  good  one,  Saraii,  since  she  has  failed  to  re(!og- 
ai/e  \ou.     Wha;  brought  tljo  doctor?" 

tSuci'an  Sharpe  britlly  told  him. 

Ml'.  Ingeloiv  whi<th'd  expressively. 

"  So  80011?  But  [  have  thought  so.  He  is  not  the  man  tc 
xvait.     Well,  we  must  be  ahead  of  him,  Sarah." 

Sarah  nodded. 

*'  Yes— how?" 

"  1  have  it  all  arranged.  Miss  Dane  must  escape  to-night. 
Look  at  this."' 

He  pointed  to  a  basket  at  his  feet. 

Mrs.  Sharpe  lifted  the  cover,  and  saw  two  lunii^.s  of  raw 
beef. 

"  U'ell?"  she  asked,  wonderingly. 

"  '  A  sop  for  Cerberus,'  "  laughed  Hugh  Ingolow:  "  a  sup- 
per for  the  dogs.     They'll  never  want  another  after." 

"  Wiuit  do  you  moan?" 

"  Tho  moat  is  poisoned;  there  is  strychnine  enough  in  these 
two  pieces  to  kill  a  dozen  dogs.  1  mean  to  throw  that  to 
them  this  evening." 

"  Jiut  how?" 

"  Over  the  wall,  of  course.  What's  their  names?  They'll 
com  ■  when  I  call  them." 

"  Tiger  and  Ts'ero. " 

"  So  be  it.  Tiger  and  Nero  wiil  devour  the  htA  and  ask 
no  questions.  An  hour  after  they'll  be  as  dead  -.^  two  door- 
nails." 

*'  Poor  lellowt;!     But  it  can't  be  helped,  I  su})pose?" 

"  J  suppose  not.  Save  your  svnipathv,  Sarah.  You  must 
do  for  tiio  thno  old  folks." 

*'  Poison  them,  too?"  asked  Sarah,  grimly. 

"  Not  nriitr'.     dust  put  them  to  sleep." 

*' Indeed!    How?" 


160 


THE    UNSEEN    BRIDEGROOlf. 


Mr.  lugelow  prorliicetl  a  little  white  piipor  from  his  vest 
pocket. 

"  You  see  this  powder?"  liolding  it  up.  "  Drop  it  into 
the  tea-pot  this  evi^iiitig,  and  don't  drink  any  of  the  tea." 

The  womnn  shrunk  a  little. 

"  I'm  almost  afraid,  Mr.  Ingelow.     1  don't  like  drugging. 
They're  old  and  feeble;  1  daren't  do  it." 

*'  You  must  do  it,"  llw^h  Ingelow  said,  sternly.  *'  I  toll 
ycu  there  is  no  danger.     J)o  you  take  mo  for  a  murderer?" 

''  ISio;  but  there  might  be  a  miatai^e. " 

'*  'L'here  is  none.  The  powder  is  an  opiate;  it  will  harm  no 
one.  They  will  go  to  sleep  a  little  earlier,  and  sleep  a  little 
longer  and  a  little  sounder  than  usual — that  is  all." 

Mrs.  8harpo  took  the  paper,  but  with  evident  reluctance. 

"  I  tell  you  it  is  all  right,"  reiterated  Hugh  Ingelow;  "  no 
one  is  to  be  murdered  but  the  dogs.  Doctor  Oleander  will 
have  no  scruple  about  drugging  Miss  Dane  on  Friday  night, 
you  will  see.  The  choice  lies  between  her  and  them.  Are 
you  going  to  fail  mo  at  the  last,  Sarah?"  sternly. 

"  No,"  said  the  woman.  She  dropped  the  little  package 
in  her  pocket,  and  looked  him  firmly  in  the  face.  "  I'll  dc 
it,  Mr.  Ingelow.     And  then?" 

"And  then  the  dogs  will  be  dead,  and  the  people  asleep, 
before  ten  o'clock.  At  ten  I'll  bo  at  the  gate;  a  vehicle  will 
be  waiting  down  below  in  the  clurn])  of  cellars,  ^'ou  will  open 
the  house  door  and  the  garden  gate,  and  let  me  in.  Before 
another  day  we'll  be  in  the  city." 

•'  So  be  it.  And  now,"  said  ilns.  Sharpe,  drawing  her  shawl 
around  her,  "  I  must  go.  I  came  to  walk  ofT  a  bad  head- 
ache; I  find  it  is  gone,  so  I  hud  blotter  return." 

"  Good-bye,  and  God  speed  you"'  said  Hugh  Ingelow. 

Mrs,  Sharpe  walked  back  to  the  house.  Old  Peter  admittetl 
her,  and  all  three  were  solicitous;  about  her  hearlache. 

"  Much  better,"  Mrs.  Sharpe  said,  quietly.  "  I  knew  that 
walk  would  cure  it." 

All  the  rest  of  the  afternoon  she  helped  old  Sally  to  manu- 
facture pies.  Tea-time  came,  and,  ever  willing,  she  volun- 
teered to  make  the  tea. 

"  Do  so,"  said  old  Sally.  "  I  can't  abear  to  take  my  hands 
out  o'  dough  when  they're  into  it" 

The  tea  was  made,  the  supper-table  set,  and  then  Mrs. 
Sharpe  bt'gcj.  d  permission  to  make  herself  a  cup  of  coffee. 

"1  find  it  better  for  ray  head  than  tea.  It  will  cure  me 
quite,  1  know." 

Mrs.  Oleander  assented,  and  the  coffee  was  made.     The 


The 


THE    UNSEEN    r.IlIDEGKOOM. 


161 


fjHartet  sat  down  to  siippor,  and  Susan  Shar])e  felt  an  inward 
quaking  aa  bIio  watched  them  drink  ihn  (fa.  Mrs.  Oleander 
complained  that  it  wad  weak;  Sally  said  it  must  have  boiled^ 
it  had  such  a  nasty  ta^'tc;  but  they  drank  it  for  all  that. 

Supper  over,  Mrs.  Sliarpe  brought  up  her  patient's.  But 
she  carried  her  coHee,  and  left  the  doctored  tea  behind. 

*'  Wo  are  to  escape  to-night,"  t-ho  said  to  Mollic.  "  Bo 
ready.  Wo  will  start  at  ten.  Don't  ask  mo  to  explain  now. 
1  feci  nervous  and  am  going  down." 

Before  an  hour  had  elapsed  the  drug  began  its  work.  Mrs. 
Oleander  nodded  over  her  knitting;  Sally  was  drowsy  over  her 
dishes;  Peter  yawned  audibly  before  the  lire. 

"J  don't  know  what  makes  me  so  sleepy  this  evening," 
Mrs.  Oleander  said,  gaping.  "  The  weak  tea,  1  suppose. 
I'eter,  close  up  early  to-night;  1  think  I'll  go  to  bed." 

"J'll  let  the  dogs  loose  now,"  said  Peter.  "  I'm  blamed 
sleepy  myself.'* 

The  old  man  departed.  Very  soon  the  hoarse  barking  of 
the  dogs  was  heard  as  they  scampered  out  of  their  kennel. 
Peter  returned  to  find  the  two  old  women  nodding  in  com- 
pany. 

"  You  had  better  go  to  bed,"  suggested  Mrs.  Shariie.  "  I'm 
going  myself.     Gowl-night." 

She  quitted  the  kitchen.  Mrs.  Oleander,  scarcely  able  to 
keep  her  eyes  open,  rose  up  also. 

"  1  will  go.  I  never  'elt  so  sleepy  in  my  life.  Good-nighty 
Sally." 

*  (iood-night,"  sait.  Bally,  di'owsily.     "  I'll  go  after  you." 

Before  the  kitchen  clock  struck  nine,  sleep  had  sealed  the 
eyelids  of  Mrs.  Oleander  and  her  servants  more  tightly  than 
they  were  ever  sealed  before.  And  out  in  the  yard,  stilt"  and 
stark,  lay  Kero  and  Tiger.  They  had  eaten  the  poisoned  beof, 
and,  like  faithful  sentinels,  were  dead  at  their  postti. 


CHARTER    XXII. 

A    MOONLIGHT    FLIT'^ING. 

The  big  Dutch  clock  on  the  kitc^nen  mantel  struck  nine. 
The  silence  of  the  grave  reigned  within  the  house.  With  tho 
first  clear  chime  Mrs.  Susan  Shurpe  rose  from  the  bed  on 
which  she  had  thrown  herself,  dressed  and  prepsired  for  action. 

She  drew  the  curtain  and  looked  out  The  night  was 
celestial.  A  brilliant,  full  moon  flooded  the  dark  earth  and 
purple  sea  with  silvery  radiancej  the  sky  was  cloudlesi — blue 


IGS 


THE    U:NSE£X    IJRIDEOROOil. 


es  Mollie  Dane's  eyes,  tlie  etara  beyond  numljor,  big  and 
bi'idifc. 

A  f&iiifc  sea-breez3  just  stirred  the  svvavini^  trees;  Iho  surf 
broke  in  ..  iliiil,  nionutoiious  vviisli  on  tiie  i-;li'iiing  strand;  even 
tho  dreary  Long  Island  farni-honso  and  its  desolate  surnumd- 
ia<j;s  were  traruitiginvd  and  gloriiied  hy  tiie  radiant  moonlight. 

Mr3.  Snsaii  Shaipe  vvas  an  inestiijiiiblo  vvouuia  in  her  way, 
but  neitlier  a  poet  nor  an  artist.  8ho  gave  a  complacenL 
^liiuce  at  earlh,  and  sky,  and  water,  thani\fnl  tliat  the  benign 
iniluenees,  in  the  way  of  weather,  were  at  work  to  aid  ihern. 

"  It's  a  very  nice  night,"  ninrmured  ilr.s.  Susan  Sharpo. 
"Couldn't  be  better  if  tliey  tried  ever  bo  mucli.  It  would 
have  been  dreadful  awkward  if  it  raini  tl.  How  still  the  house 
is— like  a  tomb'  Dear  m(>,,  1  iiope  there  was  no  liarm  done  by 
that  drug!     f  niu.sl,  go  and  get  ready  at  onee/ 

But  just  at  that  moment  she  heani  a  sharp,  shrill,  pro- 
longed whittle.  She  paused.  An  instant  more  and  a  man 
vaulted  lightly  over  the  high  board  fence. 

"  Lor'!"  said  Mrs.  Sharpe,  "  it  it  isn't  him  already!  f 
hope  the  dogs  are  done  for." 

it  seemed  as  if  tlu-y  were,  for,  as  she  looked  and  listened,  i«» 
considerable  trepidation,  the  man  approached  the  lioiiso  in 
swift,  swinguig  stri  les.  Of  course,  it  was  tlie  peddler.  Mrfi. 
SJuupe  threw  uii  her  window  and  })rojected  her  head. 

"Mr.  Ingeloa!" 

*'  Ilailoo!" 

The  man  halted  and  looked  up. 

"  Where  are  tiie  dogs?" 

"  In  thedogish  elysium,  I  hope.    I)ec;d  and  dcie  for,  Sarab 
Come  down,  like  ;i  good  girl,  and  let  me  in." 

"  I'm  not  sure  that  they're  fast  asleep." 

"  Oh,  ihoy  are."  said  Hugh  Ingelow,  confidently,  ''  if  you 
^dniinisteriKl  tiie  drug  and  they  drank  the  tea." 

"  1  did,"  eaid  Mrs.  Sharpe,  "and  they  drank  tho  tea  and 
went  to  bed  awful  sleepy.  If  you  think  it's  safe,  I'll  gc 
down." 

"  All  right.     Come  along." 

Mrs.  Sharpo  lowered  the  sash  and  hurried  down  stairs, 
liolts  clattered,  the  lock  creaked,  but  the  sleepers  in  the  house 
made  no  sign.  A  secojui  o*  two  and  the  nocturnal  marauders 
were  logother  in  the  hall. 

"  I  told  you  it  was  safe,"  said  Mr.  Ingelow.  "  You  are  a 
woman  in  a  thousand,  Siirah,  to  manag.'  so  cleverly!  Now', 
Uutnj  for  MisB  Dane  I     Upsluiis,  is  it?     Do  you  go   in   lii'tin, 


•!     T 


! 


I 


:« 


THR    UXSEEN    r.  ({I  DEC,  ROOM. 


16:i 


Sarah;  biitJon't  tell  lior  I'm  eoinipg.     f  wiint  tho  pleasure 
of  ;'iiri)riHiM<,'  Ler  myself." 

Surali  smiled,  uiul  unlocked  Mollic's  door.  The  p;irl  was 
sitting  with  ati  aii.vioii-5,  lirftonin;^,  expc'tunt  faco.  She  roao 
U|)  and  turned  around  at  the  op'jiiing  of  the  door. 

"Is  it  you,  nurse?'  Oh,  I  have  been  so  uneasyl  What 
noise  was — " 

She  never  finisihed  tho  sentence — it  died  out  in.  an  inarticu- 
late cry  of  joy.  For  llii^^di  Ingelow,  his  disguise  torji  ollf^ 
stood  in  the  door-way,  smiling  and  isereue  as  the  god  of  safety 
himaeif. 

Mollie  Dane  was  a  creature  of  impulse— she  never  slopped 
to  think.  One  faint,  suppressed  cry,  one  bound  forward,  and 
she  was  in  the  young  man's  arms. 

"  Ilughl  Jlughl  Jlughl"  she  cried,  hysterically,  clinging 
to  him,  "  save  me!  smtc  maV 

II.  was  the  lirsfc  time  she  had  ever  o»11(m1  him  other  than  Mr. 
Ingelow.  The  young  mau's  ui'ms  closed  around  her  as  if  they 
never  would  open  again. 

'*  AFy  darling,  I  have  come  to  i»ve  you!" 

It  had  all  passwl  in  live  seconds,  but  that  ?hort  interval  was 
long  enough  for  Mollio's  womaidy  instincts  to  tnke  the  alarm. 
Sh(i  disengaged  heratdf,  red.dening  violently.  What  woidd  ho 
think  of  her!*  and  Mrs.  SliarjH?  there,  too! 

"  They  have  driven  mo  nearly  out  of  mr  senses!"  she  saiii* 
with  a  sort  uf  c;hoking  sob.  "  i  don't  kr.ow  what  I  am  doing 
half  iJie  time,  and  I  was  so  glad  to  see  u  friend's  familiar  face, 
Mr.  Ingidow. " 

Tho  blue  eyes — the  eyes  of  a  very  child — lifted  theniselveg 
wistfully,  doprecatingly,  shiniiv  in  tears.  Hugh  Ingelow  waa 
touched  to  the  core  of  Ins  iieart. 

"  I  know  it,  my  poor  iitcivT  girl!  It  is  enough  to  drive  any 
one  out  of  his  senses.  liut  le^  us  see  if  wo  can't  outwit  the 
crafty  Oleander.     Put  your  bou  lot  on  and  come." 

Midlie  pau8«d  sudderdy.  an;  looked  first  at  him,  then  at 
Mrs.  Susan  SiiarjK*,  theti  back  again. 

"Well,  Miss  Dane,"  said  Mr.  Ingelow,  "you're  not  afraid 
to  come  with  me?" 

"Afraid;-'"  the  blue  eyes  turned  ii{wn  him  with  an  elo- 
jjiient  i,daiioe.     "  Oli,  no!    JJut  she — Mrs.  Shaipe — " 

"Is  ooming,  too,  of  course,  to  play  prnj)riety,"  laughed 
Mugh.  "  Mra.  Sliarpe,"  tumii/g  to  that  demure  lady,  "  jmic 
on  your  fixings  and  lt;t  us  fly!" 

Mrs.  bhtrpe  nodded,  and  turned  to  go  into  lier  own  roooa. 


f 


1G4 


THE    UNSEEN    Bril  DEO  ROOM. 


"  There's  Miss  Dane's  things,"  ^ho  sdiJ,  pointing  to  the 
pegs  on  wlilch  they  hung.     "  I'll  bo  back  in  two  minutes." 

Mr.  Ingelow  took  them  down,  and  tenderly  wnipped  the 
long  nuuule  about  the  slender,  giiiidi  figure. 

"Are  you  sire  you  will  be  warm  eiiough,  Mullie? — 1  beg 
your  pardon — Mias  Dane."; 

"  Aiu  call  me  Moilii-I"  the  eloquent-  glance  once  more. 
"  How  good  you  are  to  me,  Mr.  Ingeiowl" 

Hugh  Ingelow  winced  aa  if  she  had  stabbed  liim. 

"  I'm  a  wretch — a  brute — a  heartless  monster  I  ^J'hat's 
what  I  am,  MoUie,  and  you'll  think  so,  to),  some  dav — that'.s 
the  worst  of  it.  Don't  wear  that  puzzled,  friyhttned  face,  my 
■larlingl     Heaven  knows  1  would  die  for  youl" 

She  took  his  hand  and  kissed  it.  Before  either  had  time  to 
speak,  of  course  Mrs.  Sharpe  must  happen  in  and  spoil  all. 

But  Hugh  lngel(>w,  strange  to  say,  Jooke<l  raihtr  relieved. 
His  face  had  flushed  hntly  under  that  innocent  kiss,  and  then 
grown  deathly  pale.  Jle  was  very  white  when  Mrs.  Sharpe 
came  in,  and  Mrs.  Sharpe's  sharp  eyes  saw  it.  The  green 
j^lassrs  were  gone. 

"  You  look  lit  to  die,"  observed  Mrs.  Susan  Shar]>c,  eying 
him.     "  What's  the  matter?" 

Mollie  looked  at  him,  then  turned  away.  Had  she  been 
forward?     Was  he  mortilied? 

She  colored  painfully,  then  slowly  petrified  to  marble.  JUit 
the  young  artist  only  laughed. 

"  Pining  for  you,  Mrs.  Sharpe.  1  only  exist  in  the  light  of 
your  eyes.     J^y  the  way,  where's  the  green  spectacles?" 

"  In  my  pocket.     Come!" 

Mollie  had  knotted  her  bonnet  strings  with  nervous,  trem- 
Ming  lingers.  She  was  thrillirig  through  with  mortification. 
She  had  been  bold,  and  she  had  disgusted  his  fastidious 
iaste,  and  she  had  not  meant  it.  She  was  so  gratefid,  and 
she  loved  him  so  dearly,  but  she  never  wculd  ohend  m  that 
way  again. 

Mr.  Ingelow  ofTered  her  Ir  ■  arm,  but  she  drew  back. 

"1  will  follow  you,"  sIk  said,  in  a  low  voire,  shrinking 
painfully  into  herself. 

He  said  no  more,  but  led  the  way.  Mrs.  Sharpe  went  after. 
Miss  Dane  last.  Ko  sound  broke  [Iv.  slillne.'--  of  the  house. 
They  might  have  been  in  their  beds  for  all  the  noise  they 
made. 

"  I  hojK)  it's  all  right,"  Mrs.  Sharpe  said,  with  u  very  un- 
aasy  face;  "  but  I  feel  seared." 

*'YtHi  needn't,  then,"  answered  Mr.  Ingelow;   "  tho^'xo 


( 


I 


THE    UNSEEN    BRTDEGKOOM. 


1G5 


safe  enough.  They'll  be  all  alive  in  two  or  three  hours  from 
now,  ani]  will  never  know  what  ailed  them.  Save  your  sym- 
pathy, Su.san,  for  time  of  need." 

'1  hny  went  down-stairs,  out-of-doors,  into  the  cool,  bright 
nioonlip;ht.  Mollie  Dane  drew  a  lanfr,  long  breath  of  uu- 
Rpi'akable  thaukfulnc.vs  as  she  breathed  the  fres-.h,  free  air  onc« 
more. 

"  Thank  Heaven,"  she  thought,  "  and — Hugh  Ingelowl" 

They  reached  the  garden  gate;  it  stood  wide;  they  passed 
out,  at)d  the  artist  closed  it  securely  after  him. 

"  '  Safe  biuil,  safe  find'.'  Now,  Miss  Dane,  take  my  arm, 
and  lit  us  see  you  step  out.  I  liave  a  trap  waiting  down  the 
roail.     Neat  tiling  this  i.i  the  way  of  moonlight,  isn't  it?" 

Mollie  essayed  to  laugh.  He  had  not  waited  for  her  to  de- 
cline his  prolVered  arm  this  time — he  had  taken  her  hand  and 
drawn  it  securely  through. 

"How  does  freedom  feel,  Mollie,  after  a  week  or  two  of 
close  imi)ris()nment?" 

'*  Very  delightfid.  You  must  sufTer  the  imprisonment 
first,  Mr.  Ingelow,  before  you  can  realize  it." 

"  1  wouM  prefer  trying  to  reah'ze  it  without.  Ah,  my 
worthy  Doctor  Oleander,  I  think  I  have  outwitted  you  nicely!" 

"  1  liave  been  so  bewildered,  and  so  flurrieil,  and  so  stunned 
from  the  first,"  said  Mollie,  "  that  1  can  not  properly  c;)m- 
prehend  anything,  but  I  should  like  to  hear  how  you  have 
brought  all  tin's  about." 

"  Why,"  said  Mr.  Ingelow,  "  Mrs.  Sharpe  told  mo." 

"  Yes;  but  you  sent  Mrs,  Sharpe  hero  in  the  first  place;  she 
told  me  that.     Hi'.w  did  you  know  I  was  here?" 

"Ah!  thereby  hangs  a  tale — too  long  to  tell  at  this  sharp 
pace.  Wait  until  to-mor'-ow,  Miss  Mollie.  There's  our 
vehicle  yonder.  I  might  tell  you  by  the  way,  but  the  road  is 
li)ng,  and  the  night  is  chill,  and  1  am  to  bo  charioteer.  I 
coiiiiln't  do  proper  justice  to  the  subject,  3'ou  perceive;  and 
besides,  1  want  you  to  cuddle  up  and  go  to  sleep.  Hero  wo 
are.  J^ile  in,  Mrs.  Sharpe;  the  back  seat,  if  you  ])lease. 
Mis3  Dane  and  1  will  sit  in  front  and  shield  you  from  the  in- 
clemency of  the  weather, " 

"  Much  obliged  to  you,  sir,"  Mrs.  SlKir[)e  said,  dryly,  obey- 
ing orders,  nevertheless. 

"I'll  sit  back  v'ith  Mrs.  Shurjie, "  said  Mollie,  sensitively 
shrinking. 

"  Y'oti'll  do  nothing  of  the  BorC"  retorted  Mr.  Ingelow, 
Huihorilatively.  "  A'ou'll  do  precisi  !y  as  I  tell  you!  You  and 
Mrs.  Sharpe  are  both  in  my  ])ower,  and  if  you  don't  keep  uu- 


IfiO 


THE    UXSEEN    I'.IMDEGKOOir. 


common!}-  civil  arni  doeilo,  I'll  run  off  with  the  pair  of  yen 
and  stiu't  a  fecr;i;;lioI  There,  ma'am,  you're  comfortable,  I 
hops,'?     X;»«',  tho  h^o.incr  j'ou  ^'o  to  .sleep  Iho  better."' 

Ho  hclpod  Mis.  Sharpe  into  tiie  back  seat  of  the  two-aeateil 
buggy,  wiaiiped  her  up,  and  then  assisted  Mollie  up  in  front. 

"  A  splenilid  nig'it  for  our  business,"  he  said,  getting  in 
beside  her  and  gathering  u{)  the  reins.  "  IS'ow  then,  off  we 
go,  over  '  brake,  bush  and  sfivur,'  and  good-bye  to  Doctor 
Oleander  and  the  trip  to  C'idjal" 

Obedience  was  not  very  hard  in  this  instance.  Miss  Dane 
snugged  up  nice  and  close  t  >  Mr.  Ingelow,  and  felt  very  com- 
fortable indeed.  As  I'or  him,  Uiere  was  a  glow  of  happiness 
about  his  heart  like  the  halo  round  a  full  moon.  They  would 
have  been  'atisti'Ml,  just  then,  to  sit  side  by  side  and  drive 
along  in  a  glory  of  moonshine  forever  and  ever. 

*'  Where  are  we  going?"  Mollio  asked  once. 

"  To  the  citv— to  New  York." 

"  Oh!  I  know.     But  whore?" 

•'  Wherever  you  please.  Miss  Mollie.  That  will  be  Mr. 
Walraven's,  1  presume?" 

"But—" 

Mollie  hcsiiated. 

"  What?"  he  said,  in  surprise.  "  Don't  you  want  to  go 
homer  ' 

*'  Very  much,  Mr.  Ingelow.     It  isn't  that." 

"  Well,  what  is  it,  then?" 

"  Mr.  Ingelow,  you'll  think  me  very  silly,  I  dare  say;  but  1 
don't  want  to  go  up  there  in  a  mutter-of-fact  sort  of  way  at 
day-break  to-morrow  morning,  in  tliis  double  buggy,  with  you 
and  Mrs.  h'harpe.  I  should  like — how  shall  1  say  it?— a  little 
C02t/>  de  fJu'dirr  /" 

"  Oh!  I  uiulerstanfl,"  Mr.  Ingelow  laughed.  "  It  is  quite 
natural.  I  should  like  it  my.-x'lf.  And,  by  Jove!  I've  got  a 
capital  idea." 

Mollio  looked  up  brightly. 

"  Oleander  has  given  out  tliat  he  is  going  to  Cuba — he 
makes  no  secret  of  one  half  the  story,  you  see — and  Mr.  Wal- 
raven  gives  a  farev/cll  dinner  in  honor  of  the  mournful  occa- 
sion, on  Thurmiay — lo-morx'ow  eviiuing.  Tli«  jiarty  is  Hclect 
— very — on  your  account,  you  know — only  Sir  Ifoger  T'ra- 
Jenna.  Walraven's  lawyer,  Hindonyx,  and  myself.  Now, 
when  we're  all  assembled,  di.scu.-^ing  yoin*  absence,  aa  I'll  tako 
care  we  .-hall  bi ,  and  Oleande;-  is  telling  lies  by  tho  yard,  do 
you  appar  like  a  thunder-el  sp  iuiil  transfix  him.  Guilt  will 
De  confounded,  innocence  trnim|thanfly  vindicated,  the  virtu- 


TET.    CN8EEN    HIIIDEOROOM. 


1G7 


go 


I 


I 


i 


oufl  mado  happy,  and  the  curtiiin  will  go  down  umiil  f;re- 
mendous  appluude,     Kb,  her  'lo  y  u  like  the  style  of  thiU?" 

Mollie  liiiight-d  ^rlcefuUy.  lIulMuiiu'd  thing  thai,  she  was, 
a  lew  nioiu'Mls  of  breezy  frcdoiu,  bv  the  side  of  Iho  nniri  tihe 
Idved,  made  her  ail  her  o!d,  ha[)p";,  niid;:hicf-lc>ving  Sflr  ugain. 
in  the  i'lVtit  bright  ip.trkle  and  inloxieiition,  she  could  (jiiite 
forget  that  av/Tul  fact  that  i^ho  wiis  J)r.  Olcaudet-'s  wedded 
wife. 

"Splendid!  Oh!  what  fun  it  will  bo  to  ace  him!  And 
such  glorious  reveiige,  too!" 

"  Serionslv,  Moliie,"  said  Mr.  Ingelow,  "  he  deserves  to  be 
punirfhed  for  hi-  unmanly  trick." 

"  And  he  fch.ill  he!"  Mollie  cried,  her  eyea  sparkling. 
"  He  shall  be,  if  all  the  world  knows  the  story!  What  care 
J?  I  will  have  my  revenge  on  the  man  I  hate — on  the  man 
who  has  wronged  me  beyond  reparation.  And  then  I  can  go 
uway  whore  no  one  will  know  me,  and  make  my  own  way 
through  the  world,  as  I  did  before  I  ever  came  to  isew  York.  '* 

Hugh  Inyelow  look'd  at  her.  Her  eyes  were  alight,  her 
cheeks  Hushed,  her  wh  'le  fuce  eager,  angry,  and  aglow. 

"Wronged  you  beyond  reparation!"  he  slowly  repeated. 
"  Mollie,  what  do  you  mtan!-'" 

"  I  mvan,"  Mollie  paseionately  cried,  "  that  1  am  liis  wife. 
And  f  will  never  forgive  hiiu  for  makiiig  mo  that— never, 
never,  if  it  wern  nty  dving  dav!" 

"Jfiswife!" 

'^riie  young  man  lr>okeil  at  !ier  thuiuier-struck. 

"  Oh!  you  don't  know,  "^'ou  hadn't  heard,  of  course.  It 
wasn't  this  time.  I  would  have  murdered  him  and  my>elf  tliis 
time  before  he  would  evi-r  lay  a  ling'r  on  me.  It  was  before. 
You  rememlier  that  ()ther  time  I  was  carritil  0(1?" 

"Oh!" 

It  was  all  Mr.  In^^  I.iW  paid;  but,  singidar  tt)  rehito,  ha 
looked  unutterably  relieved. 

"  He  married  me  then — forced  mo  to  nnirry  him — and  1 — 
Oh,  miserable  girl  that  I  am!  why  (111  T  not  die  a  thun-aiul 
deatlvj  sooner  than  consent?  But  J  was  nuid,  and  it's  (oo  lalo 
now.  Mr.  Ifashkigh  married  us.  Yi>n  recollect  that  story  he 
told  at  M'.-s.  Orand'ij  dinner-i>arty;-'  Well,  I  was  the  masked 
heroine  of  that  adventure;  but  1  m  vcr,  never,  never  thought 
(ruy  Oleander  was  the  hero.  I'd  have  died,  even  then,  sooner 
than  become  his  wife.     1  hojicd  it  was — I  thought  it  was — " 

(She  paused  abruptly. 

"  Who?"  pouitidly  a^ked  Hugh  Ingelow. 


1(J8 


THE    UJS'SKEN    liRIDEfiKOOM. 


MoUie  stole  a  Bitleloiig  glance   froui  uuder  her  sweeping 
teshes  at  the  handsomo  fuco. 

"  Some  one  who  loved  me  as  well,  and  whom  I — well,  didn't 
exactly  hiite;  and  1  do  hat^i  Do'Mor  Oieamlerl" 

"Which  i.^  exli't  incly  naUual;  at  the  iame  Liaie  wicked,  I 
suppose.  Now,  MoUie,  don't  try  to  kec))  awake  iind  talk,  be- 
cause the  journey  is  long  and  dreary.  Follow  Mrs.  Sharpy's 
example  and  go  to  sleep." 

lie  wrapped  her  up  (iloser;  and  Mollie,  with  a  delicious 
sense  of  safety,  and  comfort,  and  sleepiness,  cuddled  close  iu 
her  wraps  and  felt  luxuriously  happy. 

She  had  slept  very  little  of  late.  'J'ear.s  had  been  her  nightly 
portion,  instead  of  slumber.  Now  she  was  happy  and  at  rest; 
and  the  very  rush  of  the  swift  wind,  as  they  bowled  along, 
made  her  drowsy.  She  leaned  her  head  against  his  arm  and 
fell  fast  asleep. 


CHAPTER  XXTII. 

PRIVATE     T  H  E  A  T  K I  f ;  A  L  S  . 

It  was  broad  day  when  Mollie  awoke,  the  sun  shining  brill- 
iantly. She  started  up  on  her  elbow,  bewildered,  and  gazed 
around. 

She  was  lying  on  a  lounge  in  a  strange  room,  and  Mrs. 
Susan  Sharpe  was  seated  in  an  elbow-chair  before  her,  nodding 
drowsily.     At  MoUie's  exclamation  she  opened  her  eyes. 

"  Where  are  we?"  asked  the  young  lady,  still  bewildered. 

"  In  Mr.  Ingelow's  f^tudio,"  responded  Mrs.  Susan  Sharpe. 

"  Oh,  Broadway!     Then  we  are  tafo  in  New  York?" 

The  uproar  in  the  great  thoroughfare  below  answered  her 
efft'ctuuily.  She  rose  up  and  walked  to  one  of  the  windo,v3. 
Life  was  all  astir  on  the  noisy  ])ave.     The  crowds  coming  !i!id 


going. 


the  rattle  aiul  clatter  were    unspeakably  derghtful. 


after  the  dead  stagnation  of  iaer  brief  imprisonment. 

"  How  did  we  come  here?"  asked  Mollie,  at  length,  turning 
round.  "  The  last  1  remember  1  was  dropping  asleep  iu  the 
buggy." 

"  And  you  stayed  asleep — sound — all  the  way,"  re})lied 
Mrs.  Shar}>e.  "  You  slept  like  the  dead.  Mi:  Ingelow  lifted 
you  out  and  carried  you  u[)  here,  and  you  never  woke.  I  was 
aslecj),  too;  but  he  made  no  ado  about  rousing  me  up.  You 
were  quite  atiother  matter." 

Mollie  blushed. 

"  How  soundly  I  must  have  slept!  What's  the  hour,  I 
wonder?" 


: 


THE    UNSEEN    HRIDEGROOM. 


im 


"  About  half  past  eight." 

"  Is  that  uii?     And  where  is  Mr.  Ingolovv?" 

"  Gone  to  get  his  brrakfiist  and  semi  ih  ours.  Iladn't  yon 
better  wash  and  comb  your  hair,  Miss  Dane?  Here  is  the 
lavatory." 

Miss  Dane  refictihed  herself  by  a  cold  ablution,  and  combed 
out  her  bt'autifiil,  shining  tresses. 

As  she  hung  them  back,  a  <|uifik,  light  stop  came  Hying  up- 
stairs', a  clear  voice  sounded,  whistling:  "  i\ly  Love  is  But  a 
Liissie  Yet." 

"  That's  Mr.  Tngelow,"  said  Susan  Sha'-pe,  decisively. 

The  next  instant  came  a  light  rap  at  the  door. 

"  The  room  is  thine  own,"  said  Mollio,  in  French.  "  Come 
in." 

"  Good-morning,  ladies,"  Mr.  Ingelow  said,  entering,  hand- 
some and  radiant.  "  Miss  JJane,  1  trust  you  feel  refreshed 
after  voui-  journey?" 

"  And  my  huig  sleep?     Yes.  sir." 

"  Atid  reudv  for  breakfast?" 

"  Quite  reaily." 

"  That  is  wi'll.  for  hero  it  comes." 

As  he  spoke,  a  colored  personage  in  a  white  apron  entered, 
staggering  under  the  weight  of  a  great  tray. 

"  Breakfast  for  three,"  said  Mi.  Ingelow,  whipping  off  the 
silver  covers.  "  Set  chairs,  Sam.  Now,  then,  Indies,  I  iu- 
teiided  to  breakfast  down  at  the  restaurant;  hut  the  tempta- 
tion to  take  my  miitinal  meal  in  such  fair  company  was  not  to 
be  resisted.     I  (^ dn't;  try  to  resist  it,  and — here  we  arel" 

i*dollie  sat  beside  him,  too  pretty  to  tell,  and  smiling  like  an 
angel.  At  seventeen  one  niglit  is  enougli  to  n)a!<e  us  as  happy 
as  a  seraph.  For  golden-haired,  blue-eyed  Moliie  earth  held 
Ufi  greater  happiness,  just  then,  than  to  sit  by  Hugh  Ingelow's 
sid.  and  l)ask  in  the  hgiit  of  his  smile. 

'*  J.)eligbtfuliy  suggestive  all  this,  eh?"  said  the  artist,  help- 
ing his  fair  neigliiior  bountifidly. 

And  Mollio  blushed  "  celestial,  rosy  red." 

"  What  comes  next?"  she  asked.  "  After  breakfast — what 
then?" 

"  That  is  for  Mistress  Mollie  to  decide." 

"  I  am  not  t.u  go  homo  until  this  evening?" 

"  Kot  if  you  wisli  to  give  unlucky  Oleander  his  coup  dc 
grclrc.  Poor  devil  I  I  pity  him,  too.  If  you  intend  to  make 
your  entree  like  tho  ghost  of  lianquo  at  the  feast,  you  can't 
appojir,  of  course,  until  evening." 

*'  Must  I  stay  here  all  day?" 


XT') 


TRF    UNPEFN    imiDEOROOM. 


"  Will  it  be  so  very  hard?"  with  an  eloquent  glance.  '*  I 
shall  be  hero." 

"  No,  no!"  ?,Iollie  saitl,  h.natily,  blushing  and  laughing. 
"  It  would  be  light  penanec,  in  any  casP;  to  spend  a  day  here, 
after  a  fortnight  down  yonder.  "What  ]  mean  is,  I  miglit  ini- 
jirove  the  time  by  giurig  to  see  Miriam." 

"  If  you  wait,  Miriam  may  improve  the  time  by  coming  to 
see  you." 

"  Nol    What  doop  she  know  about  your  studio?" 

"  Heaps!"  said  Mr.  Ingelow,  coolly.  *'  It  isn't  the  first 
time  ladii's  have  come  to  my  studio." 

"  J  know;  but  Miriam—" 

"  It  isn't  the  first  time  for  Miriam,  either." 

Mollie  opened  wide  her  eyes. 

"  I  protest,  Mr.  Ingelow,  I  didn't  know  you  were  acquainted 
with  her  at  ail." 

"Which  proves  you  are  not  an  fail  of  all  mv  lady  ac- 
quaintances. But,  to  solve  the  riddle,  it  was  Miriam  who  first 
cam«  here  and  put  me  on  your  track." 

The  blue  eyes  opened  wider. 

"  You  see,"  said  Mr.  Ingelow,  with  the  air  of  om;  entering 
upon  a  story,  "  she  knew  about  your  aiq)ointment  tliat  night, 
aud  was  at  the  place  of  reiidezvous,  all  silent  and  unseen,  .^he 
saw  you  go  ofT  in  the  carriage  with  that  man,  and  took  it  into 
her  head  that  something  was  wrong.  She  called  at  Mr.  Wal- 
raven's  that  day,  and  found  you  were  missing— no  talc  nor 
tidings  to  be  had  of  you.  Then,  what  does  she  do  but  come 
to  mu?" 

Mr.  Ingelow  looked  full  at  the  young  lady  as  he  spoke,  and 
once  more  Mollie  was  silly  enough  to  bUush. 

"  I  really  don't  know  how  it  was,"  j)ursMed  Mr.  Ingelow, 
with  provoking  deliberation,  "  but  Madame  ^liriam  had  taken 
it  into  her  head  that  I  was  the  man  you  had  gone  to  meet. 
Extraordinary,  wasn't  it?  8he  thought  so,  however,  and  was 
taken  all  al)ack  to  find  ni<'  quietly  piiinting  here." 

Mollie  did  not  dare  to  look  up.  All  her  saucy  ifisomirnice 
w;!:S  gone.     Her  face   was  burning.     She  felt    as  thouirh  it 


would  be  an  infinite  relief  to  sink  through  the  fioor.  The 
floor  not  being  practicable  for  the  purpose,  she  stole  a  look  at 
Mrs.  Sliarpe;  but  Mi-i.  Sharpe  sat  with  the  fa,(!e  of  a  wooden 
figurr-head,  infent  o?i  the  business  of  eatins;  urrl  dri/iking, 

'*  Miriam  and  1  1ki,'1  a  long  and  contidcntial  talk,"  the 
young  artist  continued,  "  and  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
Poctor  Oleander  wa^  at  the  bottom  of  the  matter,  and  that, 
wherever  you   were,   you   were   an    unwilling  j>risoncr.     Of 


THE    UKSETN    UniDEGROOM. 


171 


coarse,  to  a  gontlcmim  of  my  kni;^ht-t'rrantry,  tlnit  was 
sulliciL'nt  to  Qro  iriy  blood.  I  put  hiiice  in  rest,  bucklwl  oa 
my  armor,  mounteil  my  pranoin;,'  diar^^'or,  and  set  off  to  the 
o^'re's  castlo  to  rosciio  the  captive  muldenl  And  for  tlie  rest, 
yoii  know  it.    I  came,  I  ^ixw,  I  ootKjuered — Doctor  Oleuiiderl" 

"  Whieh  meaiiH,"  Mollic  said,  trying  to  hiugh,  "you  im- 

losed  iv'l'rs.  Sharp^i  her:>  upon  Doctor  Oleander  as  the  nurao  for 

m  purpose,  and  fooled  him  to  the  top  of  his  bent.     Well, 

Mv.  Jngelovv,  you  have  gone  to  a  great  deal  of  trouble  oa  my 

account,  and  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you." 

"  Is  that  all?" 

"  h  that  not  enough?" 

"Hardly.  1  don't  labor  for  such  poor  pay.  As  you  say,  I 
have  gone  to  a  great  deal  of  trouble,  and  lost  three  nights* 
sleep  running.  1  want  something  more  than  '  thank  you  '  for 
all  tliat." 

Mollio  tried  to  hiugh — all  in  a  (hitter. 

"  Name  your  price,  then,  sir.  Though  it  were  half  my 
kingdom,  you  shall  be  ])aid." 

"  And  don't  mind  me,  sir,"  sugg(!3tod  Mrs.  Sharpe,  de- 
mucely. 

"Ah!  but  I  do  mind  you,"  said  Mr.  Ingelow;  "and  be- 
sides, the  time  f^jr  payment  has  not  yet  o.ojue.  Doctor  Olean- 
der's littlo  bill  mii^t  be  settled  first.  What  do  you  mean  to 
do  about  it.  Miss  Dane?" 

"  Punish  him  to  the  utmost  of  my  power." 

"  And  that  will  be  pretty  severo  punishment,  if  j;m.'  appeal 
to  the  lawrs  of  our  belovinl  (lountr}'.  Abductions,  and  fon  ible 
marriages,  and  illegal  imprisonment  don't  go  for  nothing,  I 
fancy.  Only,  unfortunately,  the  whole  laiul  will  ring  with 
your  story,  and  your  notoriety  will  bo  more  extensive  than 
gratifying." 

Mollie  made  a  gestures  of  horror. 

"Oh,  sto{)I  Not  that!  I  should  die  if  it  were  known  I 
was  (Juy  Oleander's  wife!  1  moan  it,  ]Iugh  Ingelow.  i 
should  (lie  of  shame!" 

81u!  rose  impetuously  from  the  table  and  walked  away  to 
one  of  the  windows. 

"  You  don't  knoiv  how  I  abhor  that  man— abhor,  detest, 
hate,  loathe  hi;u!  'Jlrsrf!  is  no  word  i;i  all  th  language  strong 
enough  to  express  my  finding  for  him.  Think  of  it,  Mr. 
ingelowl"— she  f,a:od  a 'ound,  her  oyes  Hashing  tire — "think 
of  tearing  a  bride  from  the  very  altar  an  her  weddiiig-nijrht, 
and  compelling  her  to  marry  a  man  she  abhorred!     You,  who 


172 


THE    INSEKN    PRIDEfiROOM. 


are  ii  brave  man  and  an  honorable  gentleman,  tell  me  what 
liiM'.'iiiiae  is  etrong  enough  for  so  tbutdr'^ly  u  deetl." 

lliigli  Ingdlovv  h'ft  his  soiit  and  fuoed  her,  very  pale.  Mrs. 
.Sluirpc  slipped  out  of  th«  room. 

"  bo  you  regret  your  broken  marriage  with  Sir  Koger  Tra- 
jenn;),,  MoHit'.!-'" 

"  No— yes — no.  I  don't  know — I  don't  tliiiik  1  do.  Jt 
isn't  tlmt.  1  didn't  care  for  Sir  Iio;^(;r.  I  was  njraii  enough 
anil  sh:ibby  onou!_d\  to  ooiisi'iit  to  raariv  liirn  for  hU  wtviiih 
atid  titlo.  Hilt  I  was  such  a  iiitle  f  lol!  Sir  Jvoger  wus  a 
thousand  tiniL'S  too  good  for  in'-  and  he  ami  I  are  bolh  woil 
out  of  tlmt  matter.  J>ut  that  io  lO  excu:.u)  for  such  a  villain- 
ous liftii." 

"  'J'rue.  Nothing  can  excuse  it.  But  you  m'lst  be  merci- 
ful.    'I'lu'  man  lovcil  you  pi.-^sioiuitoly." 

"  ^[r.  fugnloiv,"  o[i'Miiiig  her  eyos  wild  and  wide,  "  are  you 
pleading  hoctor  OK'iui'ler's  irase?" 

"  No,  Mi>i!ii' — the  caic  of  the  man  who  lovod  you  so  madiv, 
so  recklosi^ly.  that  the  thought  of  your  hfiug  iinollu;r*s — an- 
other':i  whom  you  did  not  lovo — drove  him  to  insanity,  and  to 
the  comiuissiou  of  ;ui  insane  deed." 

'*  And  thiit  man  was  Doctor  Oleander." 

"It  was  not!" 

"Mr.  Ingelow!" 

"  No,  Moliie;  never  taiy  Oleander,  lie  hadn't  the  phick. 
He  never  cared  for  you  enough." 

"  But  ho  did  it  twice." 

"Once  only — this  lust  time — stung,  goaded  into  it  by  the 
lash  of  Mrs.  Walraveu's  waspinli  tongue.  But  he  is  not  tho 
man  who  nuirried  von,  whoever  that  man  may  bo.  At  least," 
cooling  down  suldenly,  as  he  saw  the  fidl  l)lu!>  eyes  fixed  upon 
him  with  piercirig  intentnoss,  "  1  don't  believe  it." 

"  What  do  you  believe,  then,  Mr.  Ingelow?"  Mollic  said, 
clowlv  and  susfjiciously. 

"  That  when  you  made  Miriam  the  confulanteof  your  story, 
on  a  certain  night  in  your  bedroom,  Mrs.  Carl  Wah-aven  over- 
heard you." 

"  Impossible!" 

•'  Porlmpa  so;  but  yoa'U  f5nd  that's  thn  way  of  it.  She 
listened  and  heard,  and  pjitclied  it  up  with  Mr.  Kashlcigh's 
dinner-tabl(^  tale,  nnd  conhiHulaled  with  her  cousin,  and  \)<.it 
him  up  to  this  last  ^odgo.  She  .-aw  your  advertisement  in  rhw 
paper,  and  understood  it  a.5  well  a^i  you  did,  and  Dv.vAov  Ole- 
ander was  therein  waiting.  You  committed  one  unaccountable 
blunder.     You  appointed  ten  for  the  nocturnal  interview,  and 


hat 
Ira. 
ra- 
ft 

m;:!i 
'liili 
IS  :i 

aiu- 


I 


THE    UNSEEN    BRIDEGROOM. 


173 


wore  at  tho  place  of  the  tryat  at  half  iiu%t  niue.  Huw  il o  yon 
explain  ihiir,  little  ciriMiiuiluiice?" 

"It  seeais  to  ma,  Mr.  Jngelow,"  saiii  Mollis  "that  you 
mnst  bi'  ii.  aiirwier.     iIo»v  ilo  you  kuow  all  thin?" 

•'Pa.tly  f.oin  Miriam,  {)artiy  from  my  own  inborn  ingenu- 
ity, as  a  S^aiikce,  in  giiutf.  iiip;.     Please  answer  my  quetiiiun." 

"  I  didn't  know  1  was  bi'f.iro  time.  It  was  later  than  half 
7)ast  nine  by  my  watch  when  i  ([iiittod  the  h'.iiso.  I  rcMnern- 
oer  li.steninix  for  tho  clocks  to  strike  ten  as  I  reached  Four- 
teenth ISk-oct." 

"  You  didn't  hear  them?" 

"No." 

"  Of  course  not.  Your  watch  was  tampered  with,  and  t/iafc 
confirms  my  suspicion  of  Mrs.  Walraven.  Jiwliuve  me,  Mollie, 
a  trap  was  lai;l  for  you,  and  you  wore  cau;j,ht  iu  it.  Yoa 
never  mot  '  JJlaok  Mask  '  that  night." 

"  Jf  1  thought  sol"  Mollie  cricil,  clasping  her  hands. 

"  ^'oii  will  ilnd  it  so,"  If  ugh  Ingelow  said,  verv  fpiietly. 
"  Lot  that  he  Doctor  Oleander's  punishment.  Make  him 
confess  his  fraud — make  him  confess  Mrs.  Walraven  aided 
and  abetted  him — to-night." 

"  How  can  I?" 

"  Simply  enough.  Accuse  him  and  her  bufore  ui  all. 
There  will  bo  no  one  present  you  can  not  trust.  Your  guard- 
ian,  Sir  Koger,  and  myself  know  alrea'iy.  Sardonyx  is  Mr, 
Walraven's  lawyer,  and  silence  is  a  lawyer's  forte." 

"  Well?"  breathlessly. 

"  Accuse  him — threaten  him.  Tell  him  you  know  hia 
whole  fraud  from  first  to  hist.  Accuse  herl  Tell  him  if  ho 
does  not  prove  to  your  sati.-fa(^tion  he  is  tiie  man  who  carried 
you  o(T  and  married  you,  or  if  he  refusiis  to  own  he  is  not  tho 
man,  that  he  will  go  straight  from  the  house  to  prison,  llo 
knows  you  can  fullUl  tho  threat.     I  think  it  will  succeed." 

"  And  if  he  confesses  he  is  not  the  nuiii  v/ho  married  me — 
if  ho  acknowledges  I  he  f.a'id — what  ihen?" 

"  Ahl  what  then?  Doctor  Oleander  will  not  be  your  hus- 
band." 

"  And  I  will  be  as  much  in  (he  dark  as  ever." 

"A  moment  ago  you  were  iu  despair  heeause  you  thought 
lie,  of  all  men,  was  tho  man,"  ?aid  Hugh  Inyelow.  "  It 
seems  to  me  you  are  hard  to  saiit,fy." 

"  Xo,"  sail!  Mollie;  "  if  ir,  be  as  you  suspect,  1  shall  be  un- 
speakably thankful.  No  fate  earth  can  have  in  store  for  mo 
(an  be  half  so  horribJ'^  a»  to  knor  myself  tho  wife  of  Guy 
Oleander." 


174 


THE   TXSF.IjN   TiBinrxinooM. 


"  Aiul  if  I  (lionglit  Y')ii  \vi?ro  lil.^  wifo,  Mollio,  ro^t  assiirid  I 
ihotiUl  never  li;ive  taken  yi;u  from  liim,"  siiil  Mr.  Iiigolow, 
decidtjilly.  '  You  aro  no  moro  Ony  Olcamlur'a  wife  tliau  1 
am." 

"  fleiivon  bo  {uMiscd  for  tliutl'*  Mollie  cii^il.  "  IJut  then, 
I  am  entirely  in  ihu  durk.     Whose  wife  am  I?" 

Mr.  Ingulovv  nmilod. 

"■  Tli.'it  quosLion  has  an  i-xtraordinary  aoiind.  Oiio  doesn't 
hear  it  often  in  a  life-time.  If  1  were  a  borceror,  as  yon  aoouso 
mo  of  being,  I  might  pt  rhaps  aiMWor  it.  As  it  U,  I  leave  it 
to  your  own  woman's  wit  to  discover." 

"  My  woman's  wit  is  enni|)lett.'ly  at  a  loss,"  said  Mollio,  de- 
spairingly. "If  ever  I  do  iiiid  out,  and  I  think  it  likely  I 
shall,  the  divoreo  law  will  .set  me  free.  1  must  toll  guardy 
all,  and  get  him  to  hi-lji  me." 

"  Is  there  no  one  you  t-'usjn.et?" 

"  Not  one — now,"  M,)ilie  replied,  fuming  awny  from  him. 

Ifow  could  Moiiie  J)ano  tell  him  she  had  ever  surf[)eeteil, 
ever  hoped,  it  miglit  bo  himselu-'  It  was  evidently  a  matter 
of  very  little  mument  to  him. 

"  And  you  can  not  fort;ive  the  love  that  resorts  to  such  ex- 
treme measures,  Mnllii'?"   he  asked,  after  a  pau.if. 

"  No  mnr">  than  I  can  fogive  Doctor  Oi;'ander  for  carrying 
me  off  and  holding  me  captive  in  his  dreary  fa  m-house,"  an- 
swered .^follie,  steadily.  "  No,  Mr.  Iiigidow,  I  wiil  never  for  ■ 
give  the  man  who  married  me  against  my  will." 

"  Not  oven  if  you  cared  a  iittle  for  hiiii.  Mollie?" 

lie  asked  the  ijui'stion  hesitatingly,  as  if  ha  had  something 
at  stake  in  the  answer.  And  Mollie's  eyes  Hashed  and  her 
cheeks  flushed  angry  red  as  she  heard  it. 

"  I  care  for  no  one  in  that  way,  j\tr.  Ingelow,'*  she  said,  in 
a  ringiiig  voice.  "  You  ought  to  know  that.  If  I  did,  I 
should  hate  him  for  his  dastardly  deed," 

Dead  silence  fell.  Mollie  stood  looking  dowi\  at  Iho  bustle 
of  Broadway  at  one  window,  Mr.  Ingelow  at  the  other,  lie 
was  pale— she  flushed  iiulignant  reii.  .'"'he  was  grieved,  and 
hurt,  and  cruelly  mortified.  She  had  found  out  how  dearlv 
she  lovwl  him,  only  to  find  out  with  it  he  was  absolutely  in- 
dift'en^ut  lo  her;  he  was  ready  to  plead  another  man's  cause, 
yield  her  up  t)  hor  boliler  lover. 

She  could  have  cried  with  disappointment  and  mortiQcation, 
and  crvini:  was  I'ot  at  all  in  Mollie's  line.  Never  until  now 
had  sh.'  given  u{)  the  hope  that  he  still  loved  lier. 

"  It  serves  me  right,  I  da^e  say,"  she  thought,  bitterly. 
*'  1  have  been  a  flirt  and  ii  triiler,  and  I  refused  liim  cruelly, 


THE    UNSEEN"    BniDECnOONr. 


171 


hi-'iii'ilL'B.-jly,  fi)r  tliiit  old  man.  OliI  if  tin.'  \n\ni  could  be  but 
undone,  vvliiif  !i  happy,  luippy  firoiiturc  I  idiould  bul" 

'I'hc  ojtpresriivo  Hilonce  la.ited  utitil  Mvh.  S|iai'[)o  re-entered 
with  sonio  neodle-work.  'I'hcn  Mr.  Ingcdow  rose  and  looked 
ut  hU  vvalcli. 

"I  believe  I'll  take  a  stroll  down  Broad  vvny,"  ho  said,  a 
little  coldly.  *'  Your  friiMul  Miriam  will  prdbubly  bo  here  be- 
fore 1  return.  If  not,  there  aie  books  yonder  with  which  to 
be;iuiIo  the  time." 

Mollio  bowed,  proudly  silent,  and  Mr.  IiifTcjow  left  the  room 
for  his  morning  cunstittitional.  Miss  Danr  walked  over,  took 
a  book,  oixined  it,  and  held  it  before  her  face  a  full  hour  with- 
out turnitif^  a  leaf.  The  face  it  screened  looked  darkly  bitter 
and  overeaHt.  vSho  was  free  from  prison,  only  to  find  lier.-ilf 
in  a  worso  captivity — fettered  by  a  lov3  that  could  meet  with 
no  return. 

The  bright  morning  wore  on;  noon  came.  Two  o'clock 
brought  dinner  and  Mr.  Ingelow,  breezy  from  his  walk. 

"  WhatI"  ho  exclaimed,  looking  round,  "  no  Miriam?" 

"  No  Miriam,"  said  Mol'ie,  1  lyiug  down  her  bo.-ik.  **  Mrs. 
Sharps  and  I  have  been  (juite  alone — she  serving,  I  reading.'* 

Mrs.  Sharpo  smiled  to  herself.  She  had  been  watching  the 
young  lady,  and  surmised  how  much  she  had  read. 

"  Why,  that's  odd,  too,"  Mr.  Ingi  low  said.  "  She  prom- 
ised to  be  hero  this  niorning,  and  Miriam  kerps  her  promises, 
.1  think.  However,  the  afternoon  may  bring  her.  And  now 
for  dinner,  me«datues. " 

But  the  afternoon  did  not  bring  her.  The  hour«  wore  on 
— Mr.  Ingelow  at  his  easel,  Mollie  with  her  book,  Susan 
8harpe  v/ith  her  needle,  conversation  desultoi-y  and  lagging. 

Since  the  morning  a  restiaint  lutd  fallen  between  the  knight- 
errant  and  tlio  rescutd  lady — a  restraint  Mollie  saw  clearly 
enough,  but  could  not  pro[>erIy  understand. 

Evening  came.  Twilight,  hazy  and  blu.\  fell  like  a  silvery 
Toil  over  the  city,  and  the  street-lamps  twinkled  through  it 
like  stars. 

Mr.  Ingelow  in  an  inner  room  had  made  his  toilet,  artd  stood 
before  Mollie,  hat  in  hand,  ready  to  depart  for  the  Walraven 
mansion. 

"  Kemain  here  another  halt  hour,"  he  wiis  saving;  "then 
follow  and  strike  the  conspirators  dumb.  It  will  bo  better 
than  a  melodrama.  1  saw  Oleander  to-day,  and  I  know  in- 
formation of  your  escape  has  not  yet  i*eached  him.  Yon  had 
better  «ntef  the  house  by  the  most  jtrivato  entrance,  80  tiiat, 


m 


THE    rJTSEEN    PRIDEGROOM. 


all  iitiknov/11,  voii  can  nppear  before  us  and  s^Raro  ".h  oat  of  a 
yeiir's  ^I'ouili. " 

"  I  kii  w  how  to  goL  in,"  said  Mdllio.  "  TruHt  nio  to  play 
Diy  jiiiit. " 

Mr.  Ingelow  df^parted,  fidl  of  delightful  anticipations  of  the 
fmi  to  come.  Jle  fuunil  all  the  giu'8ts  assembled  liefnro  him. 
It  was  quite  a  select  lit  tie  faniiiv  party,  and  Mr,  Walruvcu 
and  Sir  Jioger  Trajeimu  were  in  a  state  of  despondent  gloom 
that  h  id  become  chronic  of  late. 

M'lilii',  the  apple  of  their  eye,  their  treasure,  tlieir  darling, 
Vi'as  not  ]ireserit,  and  the  vvhoio  universe  lieid  nothing  to  com- 
pensate them  for  her  loss. 

Mrs.  Wat  iiven,  superbly  attiroil,  and  looking  moro  like 
Qiieon  Cleopatra  than  ever,  with  a  circlet  j|f  red  gold  in  her 
bliie-biaek  hair,  and  her  polished  fchoulderr  .'ind  arms  ;:!"a!n- 
ing  like  ivory  against  b;'on;x>  in  her  golden-brown  silk,  piy- 
gided  like  an  emi).e53.  81;c  was  quite  rf.diant  to-nigljt,  and  so 
was  Dr.  (luv.  Ail  their  plans  had  succeeded  admirably. 
Mollie  was  absolutely  in  I  heir  power.  This  litne  lu-niorrnw 
scores  of  broad  sea  mdos  would  roll  between  her  and  2S'ew 
York. 

Tho  conversation  turned  upon  her  ore  thej'liiid  been  a  quar- 
ter of  an  hour  at  tal)le.  Mr.  W'al raven  never  could  leave  the 
subject  uppermost  in  h'-^  tliniightH  for  long. 

"  It  is  alto:relher  e:  iraordinary,"  iSir  Jioger  Trajenna  said, 
slowly.  "The  first  absence  was  unaccountable  enough,  but 
this  second  is  more  unaccountable  still.  iSome  enemy  is  at 
the  bottom." 

"  Surely  Mis^  Dane  could  have  no  enemies,"  said  Hugh 
Ingelow.     "  We  all  know  how  amiable  and  loval)Ie  she  was." 

"  liovable,  eertainl).  V/e  know  that,"  rcmaiked  Sardonyx, 
v.'iLh  a  grim  smile. 

"  And  I  ailhoro  to  n^^'  ^ormr-r  ophiion,"  said  Dr.  Oleander, 
with  consummate  coi;i:i  ..i  —  "that  Miss  ^lollio  is  jilaying 
tricks  on  her  friends,  ti  try  their  atTection.  \V(3  know  wjiat; 
a  tricksy  sprite  .she  is.  r-:'lieve  me,  both  absencrs  v,-cre  prac- 
tical jokes.  She  has  d"  ■  .peared  of  her  own  free  will.  It  was 
very  well  in  tho  Dark  A-es — this  abducting  young  huliee  and 
carrying  them  olT  to  (•astle-kcrps — but  it  woirt  do  in  Is'ew 
York,  in  the  i<roHcnt  year  of  grace." 

"  My  opinion  precisely,  Guy,"  chimed  in  his  fair  cousin. 
•'  Mollie  likes  to  create  sen  ation^  Her  first  abaence  set  the 
avenue  o.i  the  (/ni  rive  and  mufle  her  a  heroine,  so  she  is  re- 
bolved  to  try  it  pgain.  Jf  people  woidd  be  guided  by  me," 
glancing  significantly  i'>  her  liusband,  "  they  would  coaee  to 


THK    I'NSF.EN'    UKIOECftOOM. 


y.7 


worry  tliom.st'l /cs  about  hor,  aud  lot  her  r«Lurn  at  he*  ow'ri 
;^'(joii  pk'cifure,  as  slu.'.  wont." 

""Veti,  Mr.  \V:ilriiV('ii."  said  Or.  Oleander,  flushed  iiud  tri- 
uni|)li!i;it,  "  IV;'.ii.jiie  is  ri^ht.  J.  is  usoloc's  to  ir  >ubln  your- 
•sell'  so  much  about  it.  Of  h(u'  own  acoord  slic  will  VAnnc  buck, 
uiid  V  )U  may  safely  swear  of  her  own  u'^coid  tihe  went." 

*"  (ruy  Oleander,  you  iiel" 

"!!' he  voice  rani,'  silver-sweet,  clear  us  a  bugle-blast,  through 
the  room.     All  sprung  to  their  feet. 

"  Ah-h-h-h-hl" 

The  wordless  cry  of  affright  came  from  Mrs.  Oarl  Wal- 
raven,  J)r.  Oleander  stood  paralyzed,  his  eyes  starting  from 
their  socket.'-,  his  face  like  the  face  of  a  deiul  nian. 

And  there  in  the  door-wav,  like  a  picture  in  a  frame,  like  a 
Saxon  pythoness,  her  golden  hair  falling  theatrically  loose, 
hor  arm  upraised,  her  face  in\k,  her  eyes  tlasiung,  stood 
Molli.'. 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 

:\r  0  L  I-  I  F  '  S     T  K  I  L'  -M  I'  11  . 

Tfie  tableau  was  maufiiificient. 

There  was  a  dead  pause  of  unutterable  consternation.  All 
stood  rooted  to  the  spot  with  staring  eyes  and  open  mouths. 
I'lforo  the  first  electric  chiirge  had  sub^i!]ed,  Mollio  Dane  ad- 
vanced and  walked  straight  up  to  the  coiifoun  led  doctor,  con- 
fronting him  with  eyes  tliat  literally  blazed. 

"  Liarl  traitor!  (toward I     Whoso  turn  is  it  now?'* 

Dr.  Oleanilor  fairly  gaspid  for  bnaih.  'J'hc  awful  sudden- 
ness of  iho  blow  stunjied  him.  He  ct)[dd  not  speak — he  made 
the  attem[)t,  but  his  white  lips  failed  him. 

*' Before  all  here,"  cried  .Mollie  Dane,  arm  and  hand  still 
upraised  with  an  action  indescribably  grand,  "  I  aceiise  you, 
(Juy  Olennder,  of  hiuh  felony  I  i  a(!cuse  you  of  forcibly  tear- 
ing mo  from  my  home,  (if  forcibly  holding  mu  a  priso;:or  for 
nearly  two  weeks,  and  of  intemling  to  carry  me  olT  by  force 
ta-morrow  to  ('id)a.  And  you,  miidanie,"  turning  siuldenly 
as  lightning  stiikes  upDn  Mrs.  Carl,  "you,  malame,  I  accuse 
as  his  aider  and  abettor." 

There  was  another  horrible  pause.  Even  Uugh  Ingelow 
thrilltid  through  every  vein. 

'I'hen  Carl  Walraven  found  voico: 

"  For  Cod's  sake,  Mollic,  what  docs  this  mean?" 

Moliie  turned  to  him  and  h.'ld  out  bolh  hands. 

"  It  moans,  guardy,  tiiut  but  for  the  direct  iuterposition  ol 


i:8 


THE    UN.si;i:X    UKIDErinOOM. 


Provideuce  you  never  would  have  aeen  your  poor  litLle  Criolcet 

And  at  last  Dr.  Oleander  found  hii  voice. 

"  That  infernal  nursel"  he  cried  between  his  sot  teeth. 

Mollie  heard  the  hissing  wonis  and  tin-ned  upon  him  like  a 
pale  little  fury. 

"  Yi'S,  Guy  Oleander,  the  nu''?e  played  you  fal.^e — fooled 
you  to  yoHV  face  fr>>m  the  lirst.  Catue  down  from  Mew  York 
for  no  other  ]»u!pot;e  than  to  rescue  me.  And  here  1  am, 
safe  and  sound,  in  spite  of  you;  and  the  tables  are  turned, 
and  you  are  in  mv  p^vor  now.  Out  of  this  house  you  never 
stir  except  to  go  to  jiri-on." 

"  Mollie!  Mollie!  Mollie!"  Mr.  Carl  Walraven  cried  in  des- 
peration, "  f.tr  the  Lord's  sake,  wliat  do  you  mean!-'  What 
has  Doctor  Oleander  dont;!'' ' 

•'  Carried  me  olT.  I  tell  yon — forcibly  abducted  me.  Held 
me  a  prisoner  for  the  last  two  weeks  in  a  desolate  old  farm- 
house over  on  Long  Lsland.  Lof»k  at  him.  Was  ever  guilt 
more  plainly  written  on  liiunan  fa  e!-"  JA^t  him  deny  it  if  he 
can — or  you,  niadame,  his  accomplice,  either." 

"  I  do  deny  it,"  Mme.  Blanche  exclaimed,  boldly.  "  Mol- 
lie Dane,  you  are  niiid." 

"  You  will  find  to  your  cost  there  is  method  in  my  mad- 
ness, Mrs.  Walraven.  \\  hat  say  you,  Do(.'ti)r  Oleander!"'  Have 
you  llie  hardihood  tj  fjice  me  with  a  dililjerate  lie,  too!'"' 

Dr.  Oleander  wa>:  not  deficient  iii  a  certain  dog-liku  courage 
and  daring.  lie  saw  his  position  in  u  moment — saw  that 
denial  would  bo  nttuly  useless.  His  own  mother  would 
jd'ovo  against  him  it  if  came  to  law. 

There  was  but  o!io  aveniu;  of  escape  for  him — he  saw  it  like 
a.  Hash  of  light.  Mollie  w«.idd  Tint  dure  i)ublish  this  story  of 
hers  for  hei  osvn  sake,  and  neither  would  Carl  Walraven  for 
his  wife's. 

"  He  does  not  deny  it!"  cried  Mollie.  "  He  dare  not. 
Look  at  his  changing  face.  He  carried  me  oil"  and  held  me  a 
prisoner  in  his  mother's  house,  and  gave  out  1  was  mad.  And 
that  is  not  the  worst  ho  has  <1  >ne.  1  might  overlook  that, 
now  that  1  have  safely  esciijx'd — " 

Dr.  Oleander  suddenly  interrupted  her. 

"  That  is  the  very  worst — and  you  dare  not  publish  it,  even 
to  jiuru.di  me." 

"  What!"  exclaimed  the  yoiuig  ladv,  "  do  you  deny  ymr 
other  tenfold  greater  crinu' — the  compulsory  marriage  per- 
formed by  the  lieverond  Ivaymond  llashieigh?     Oh,  if  there 


THK    UNSEEN    IlKIDEOKOOM. 


17i 


he  /aw  or  justice  in  tlu  whole  country,  you  shall  suiter  for 

tbvt:" 

"  1  do  deny  it,"  snid  the  doctor,  boldly.  "  You  are  no 
wife  of  oiiiiu  hv  oonipidsioii  or  otlmrwisf.  That  story  was 
tniinpi'd  uj)  to  di'ceive  you  the  second  Liui3. " 

Mf'llio's  heart  gave  one  great  throb,  and  then  seemed  to 
stand  still. 

Mrs.  Wairavcji  turned,  ghastly  with  fear  and  rage,  upon 
her  cousin. 

"  (i'ly  Oioandor,  arc  you  mad?    What  are  you  saying?'' 

"  The  truth,  Biam^ho.  It,  is  too  late  for  any  other  alter- 
native noiv.  i^'^n'f;  fe.ir — Mr.  Walravon  will  hardly  allow  hia 
ward  to  prostHMice  his  wifi'. " 

"Traitor  anil  coward!"  lilancho  Walraven  cried  in  fierco 
scorn.  "  1  wish  my  tongue  had  blistered  with  the  words  tliat 
urged  you  on. " 

'*  I  wish  it  had,"  returned  the  doctor,  codly.  "  I  wi.-h, 
as  I  often  have  wished  since,  that  I  had  never  listened  to  your 
tempting.     It  was  your  fault,  m)t  mine,  fnun  lirst  to  last.'"' 

It  was  the  old  si;ory  of  Adam  and  Hve  over  again:  "  Tiie 
woman  tcmjjted  me,  and  1  did  eat." 

"  '  When  rogues  fall  orit,  honest  men  get  their  own.' 
Vou  mean  to  wiv,  Doctor  Oleander,  that  Mrs.  Walravon  in- 
stigated you  on?*" 

"  How  else  shotdd  1  know?"  answered  the  doctor.  "  She 
overhea  d  you  telling  tiie  woman  Miriam,  in  your  chamber, 
the  whole  storv.  Slu.'  saw  and  unihu'stood  your  advertisinneiit 
and  its  answer.  She  concocted  the  whole  scheme,  even  to 
advancing  thi*  hands  of  your  watL'h  half  an  hour.  If  tlie  law 
pmdsiies  me,  Miss  Dane,  it  must  also  punish  vour  guardian's 
wife." 

"  (-owanl!  coward  I"  Blanche  furiously  cried.  "  Dh,  baspst 
of  th»  basul  If  I  ordy  had  the  jjower  to  strike  you  dead  at  my 
feet!" 

The  dortor  bore  the  onslaught  (juietly  enough. 

"  Heroics  are  all  \ery  well,  lilarudie,"  he  said;  "but  self- 
presorvation  is  the  lirst  law  of  nature,  (-onfession  is  the  only 
avenue  of  escape,  and  I  liave  taken  it.  Besides,  justice  is 
justii'.o.  You  (lesi  rve  it.  Vou  goaded  me  on.  It  was  your 
fault  from  heginning  to  end." 

"  And  you  own,  tlun,  you  are  not  the  man  who  carried  me 
off  l>ef  .-e?"  said  Mjllie.  **  Yon  are  not  the  man  Mr.  liash- 
leigh  married?" 

"  I  swi'ar  I'm  noti"  cried  (he  doctor,  with  an  earnestness 
thwe  was  no  ruistuUiug.     "  And  I'm  very  thankful  I'm  not. 


180 


THE    UNSEEN     injIDKOilOOM. 


1  wouldn't  loud  tlie  lifo  I've  led  for  the  past  two  wer-ks  for 
ull  (he  woman  ulive.  I'm  ghid  you're  heie,  and  thut  the 
whitle  thing  is  knocked  in  thu  Ir.'ud." 

lie  epoka  with  the  dodged  recklessness  of  ;i  man  goiulfd  to 
desperulioii.  Mollie  turned  agiiiu  to  htir  guurdiim  aud  laid 
her  face  on  his  sh  »i.ildi.r. 

"  Send  that  man  away,  guardy.  His  presence  in  the  room 
tnrns  me  sick  to  dt'aih." 

"  I  am  going,  Mi<s  Dane,"  said  Dr.  Oleamlcr,  tnrning 
moodily  to  the  (ioor,  "  and  1  shall  not  go  to  Ciiha.  I  shall 
rot  qnit  New  York.  Let  you  or  your  guardian  prosecute 
m?  if  you  danil" 

He  stalked  out  with  the  last  words.  No  one  moved  or  spoke 
un:il  the  house-door  banged  uftc-  him. 

Then  Mme.  IJhuu'iio,  seeing  all  was  lost,  gave  one  horrible 
scream,  clasped  her  hands  over  her  head,  and  fell  back  in  vio- 
lent hysterics, 

"  l^ing  for  her  maid,  guardy,"  said  Mollie.  "  You  had 
best  take  her  up  to  her  room.  Sir  Roger,  Mr.  Ingclow,  please 
to  remain.  Mr.  Sardonyx,  excuse  me,  but  you  have  heard  all 
that  it  is  necessary  you  should  hear." 

The  la.vyer  became  angry-red,  but  turned  at  once  to  go. 

"  J  have  no  wish  to  pry  into  your  very  extraordinary  st-crets 
or  esca[)ade3,  Miss  Dane,"  he  said,  haughtily.  "  J'er.'uit  me 
to  wish  you  go.)d-evening. " 

Mr.  Sardi.'nyx  departed.  Mr.  Walraven  saw  his  wife  safely 
conveyed  to  her  roiui  and  left  in  charge  of  her  maid,  and 
then  returned  to  the  ilining-room. 

Mollie's  hrst  act  vvas  to  huld  out  both  hands,  with  infinite 
grace  and  courtesy,  to  Hugh  IngelDW. 

"  Mr.  Ingij'ow,  words  are  pi^or  and  weak  to  t.di  you  how  I 
thank  you.  1  have  not  deserved  it  from  you.  1  can  only 
ask  you  to  try  and  foigive  me." 

The  y.iung  arti.it  lifted  the  fair  little  hands  to  his  lips. 

"  I  am  repaid  ten  thousand-fold,"  ho  said,  (juictiy.  "  I 
would  give  luy  lifo  to  serve  you." 

"  In  the  name  of  Heaven,  Mollie,"  cried  the  nearly  frantic 
master  of  the  house,  "  what  does  all  this  extraordiriary  mys- 


gi> 


inii 


tted, 


comi 
your  wife  and 


tery  mean 

'*  It  inc.ns  that  a  terrible  crime  has  bv.'e 
guardy,"  Mollie  replied,  gravtdy,  "  and  that 
her  cousin  ure  among  the  chief  l•l)ll^:|)i|•at^rs.  Sit  down  and  L 
will  tell  you  the  whoh^  story.  Sir  ]i  »ger  Trnjeinta,  likewise. 
1  owe  you  both  a  full  e.N:plauation.  Mr.  Ingelow  knowa 
already." 


li. 


TiiE  UN'HFFN-  rRiDF.nnooir. 


181 


"I 


i 


Rh'j  isat  down  before  then),  anrl  brcinninjx  at  tho  beginning, 
th]<\  thetn  the  whole  etory — her  forced  airi  mysterious  niur- 
ria2;i'  aii.l  its  vory  iKipIf a-iiMt  s*([H<^l. 

'■ 'J'h'it  I  eviT  t3-;i.)<'l,"  she  conclufled,  "I  owe,  under 
Providence,  to  .Mr.  Ing-l.'W.  (Juardy,  I  w'ouM  have  pfiarod 
you  'f  1  coidd;  but,  yon  -.'•■,  it  wa.s  ini{)OSHiI)l!'.  Of  conrse,  V'C 
n'ori't  pro?rcute  yo-jr  »\\<^  or  her  cousin.  I  am  almost  satis- 
iii'd,  now  that  1  h'KAv  I  am  not  (iny  Oleander's  wretched 
wife." 

"  Hut,  lieaven-?  above,  Mollie  Danel"  cried  the  bewildered 


Mr.  Wa! raven, 


who.-i."  wi.e  are  you 


•j'» 


AI),  ^Miarlv,  I  w^.uld  eive  a  great  deal  to  know  that." 

"  Whijm  d>  you  suspect?" 

*'  I  8U-pi'ct  no  one  now." 

'J'here  wa-  a  frha-le  of  t-iM^ne-i  in  her  tone,  and  lier  eyes 
wauden-;!  wi -if idly  over  to  tiiL-  youriLr  ariist. 

"  Upon  my  soul!"  excLiiimd  Mc'.  Walr.ivcn.  "  1  never 
heani  or  read  of  the  like.  It's  perfectly  a^tnunditig.  Did 
yo!i  ever  lunir  anything  si  extraordinary.  Sir  Kogcr?" 

The  baronet  h'll  been  .sifting  like  a  man  stunned  by  a  blow. 
Kow  he  turned  hia  eyes  from  Mollie's  for  the  iiiiL  time,  and 
tried  to  spe.ik. 

"  I  anx  utterly  bewildered,"  he  suid.  "  The  whole  story 
so  nds  like  an  iuip">^?ibilitv — inercdibh'  a^^  a  fairy  talc." 

*'  It  is  fjwite  true,  noverth"!'.--^."  said  ^[ullie. 

"  And  vm  are  u  wedded  wife?" 

"1  am?' 

"  You're  nothing  of  the  sort!"  burst  out  Carl  Walraven. 
"  You're  free — f'^e  aa  air.  It  woidd  bo  outrageous,  it  would 
be  rnoiistrou3,  to  let  i^ui  h  a  marriage  bind  you.  Vou  arc  free 
to  wi.'d  to-morrow  if  you  choose:  and  let  the  villain  come  for- 
ward and  dispute  the  marriage  if  he  darel" 

"  lie  ppeaks  the  truth,"  said  Sir  Roger,  eagerl}'.  "  Such 
a  juarriuge  is  no  marri.ige.  You  are  as  free  as  you  were  be- 
fore, Moliie." 

'*  Perhaps  so,"  said  Mollie,  calmly.  "  Nevertheless,  I  shall 
never  marrv." 

"  Xever?" 

It  was  Sir  Koger's  despairing  voice. 

"  Never,  Sir  Roger.  I  never  was  worthy  of  you.  I  would 
be  tho  basest  of  th'?  h-nf  to  many  you  now.  No;  what  1  nm 
to-night  1  will  go  to  my  '^rave.  " 

She  stole  a  glance  ai  Hugh  Ingolow,  bnt  the  rpliinx  was 
never  more  unreadable  thuu  he.  lie  caught  her  glauec; 
howcvcr,  aiad  calmly  spoke- 


,^ 


283 


THE    UNSEEN    BRIDEGROOW. 


"  And  now,  Jis  Miss  Mollie  has  had  a  f!itif!;uin<f  journey 
latelv,  and  as  she  needs  rest,  wo  had  better  allow  her  to  retire. 
Good-night." 

He  had  bowed  and  reached  the  door  ere  tlio  voice  of  Carl 
Walraven  arrested  him. 

"  This  very  unpleasant  business,  Mr,  Tngelow~Sir  TJoger," 
he  said,  witli  evident  embarrassment,  "  in  which  Mrs.  Wal- 
raven is  concerned — " 

"  Will  be  as  though  it  had  never  boon,  Mr.  Wulruven," 
Hugh  Ingelow  said,  gravely.     "Once  more — good-night."' 

He  quitted  the  room. 

Sir  Roger  Trajenna  turned  to  follow,  a  sad,  crushed  old 
man. 

Mollie  shyly  and  wistfidly  held  out  lier  hand. 

"  Try  and  forget  me,  Sir  Koger — try  and  forgive  me.  1 
have  been  a  foolish,  llighty  girl;  1  am  soiry  for  it.  I  can  say 
no  more." 

"  Xo  more!"  Sir  Ilogor  said,  with  emotion,  kissing  the  Ht- 
tie  hand.     "  God  bless  youl" 

He,  too,  was  gone. 

Then  Mollie  turned  and  put  her  arms  round  her  guardian's 
neck. 

"  Dear  old  guardy,  I  am  sorry  for  you.    Oh,  I  wish  you  had 

M  '    r  ii.arried  that  hateful  iJianche  Oleandi'r,  but  lived  free 

happy  with   vunr  mnthc'  .aid  your  Mollie.     ]}ut  it's  too 

iate  now:  you  must  forgiv     her,  1  suppose.     I  detest  lier  like 

the  mischief;  but  we  must  .ill  keej)  the  [R'ace. " 

*'  I  suppose  so,  Mollie,"  with  a  dreary  sigh.  "  You  can't 
w,-ii  I  had  ni'ver  married  more  than  I  do.  It's  a  righteous 
punishment  upon  me,  I  suppesc,  I've  been  the  greatest  vil- 
lain unhung  to  the  only  woman  who  ever  did  love  me,  and 
now  this  is  retribution. " 

He  groaned  dismally  as  ho  rose  and  kissed  MoIIio  good- 
night. 

"  Go  to  your  room,  Mollie,  and  let  us  forget,  if  wo  can." 

"  Ahl"  said  Mollie,  "  if  we  can.     (iuardy,  good-niglit." 


CM  AFTER  XXV. 

M  1  U  I  A  M  '  S     :\l  E  S  S  A  0  E  . 

Ts'ext  morning,  at  brcakfa.^t,  Mrs.  Walraven  did  not  ap- 
])car.  Sh"  was  very  ill  and  feverish,  her  maid  re])orted,  and 
quite  unable  to  leave  her  bed. 

Mr.  Carl  Walraven  heard  Ihij  sad  account  of  his  wife's 
health  with  a  grimly  lixed  countenance.     He  looked  as  though 


THE    UNSEEN    KUIDFOKOO^r. 


m) 


ho  liiul  puHseil  !i  rcsLloHS  night  liiiiijclf,  aiul  luukeJ  worn  iiml 
ha^iL^iir'i  nn>\  hollo\v-('y(.'(l  in  tho  bri;j;ht  morning  sanshin*.'. 

Mullii^  OM  ih'..'  otiM.M'  h:uui,  ^vud  blDOiuirj;^  and  biillifiTit  a; 
the  ^oddf^aa  Idt-bo.  Past  troubled  .sut  lightly  on  buoyant  ^Ld- 
lio  \iA  d('»v-droj)j  on  a  ros('.  She  looiied  rather  aiixiou.sly  at 
her  j^uardian  as  Llie  ;;irl  '|uitted  tho  brealvfa-st-rooni. 

'*  Vou  didn't  moniion  iilanciie's  dlnead,  guardy.  Tea  or 
chocolate  this  morning?" 

*•  A  oiij)  of  tea.  I  didn't  mention  lior  iihiess  because  I 
wasn't  aware  of  it.  1  haven't  had  the  pleasure  of  seeirifj  Ma- 
danu!  Pdaiiclie  since  ne  purled  in  the  dining-room  hist  night." 

"  Indfioill"'  said  iMoilie,  stirring  her  elun-olate  slowdy. 

"  And  what'o  moro,"  pursued  tlio  master  of  the  house,  "  I 
don't  care  if  1  never  see  lu-.r  i;gain. " 

"'  Dear  me,  guardy!     St.iong  huiguage,  isn't  it?" 

*'  It  is  trutiiful  langiuige,  Moliio.  Sleeping  on  a  thing 
sometimes  alters  its  c(  nl]»U"^';^!l  materially,  f^ast  evening  I 
concluded  to  let  things  blow  over  and  keep  up  aj)2')eaiance.'? 
before  tho  svorld.  Tliis  morning  1  am  resolved  to  let  the 
world  go  hang,  and  teach  one  of  the  oo!upirators  a  lesson  she 
won't  forget  in  a  hurry." 

jMollie  looked  alarmed. 

"  Not  a  divorci!,  guardy?  Surely  not  the  public  scandal  of 
a  divorce?     All  must  come  out  then," 

"  \ot  quite  a  divorce,"  Mr.  Walravcn  said,  coolly;  "  it^ 
next-door  neighbor.  A  (puet,  gentlemanly,  and  lady-like 
soj)aration. " 

•'  Ciuardy  Walraven,"  said  Miss  Dane,  solemnly,  "  don't  do 
anything  rash. " 

■'  I  don't  intend  to.  I've  thought  tlie  nuitter  well  over. 
Didn't  get  y  wink  of  sleep  last  night  for  it.  We  won't  break 
our  hearts  " — with  a  cynical  sneer — "  mvsclf  nor  my  gentle 
Blanche.  1  don't  know  why  we  nuirricd,  exactly.  Certainly 
not  for  love,  and  we  will  j)art  without  a  ])ang. " 

'*  Speak  for  yourself,  giuirdv.  I  dare  sav  Blanche  will  be 
franti.:." 

*"  I'rantic  at  leaving  a  house  on  i'ifih  Avenue — frantic  at 
leaving  you  unstress  in  her  ])lace — frantic  that  she  can't  be 
my  blooming  young  wivlow — frantic;  at  all  that,  I  grant  you." 

"  (Juardy,  don't  be  dreadful,"  adjured  Mollie,  pathetically. 
"  If  1  can  forgive  iUanclie,  I'm  sure  you  nuiy." 

"  Xo.  .Mollie,  I  can  not.  She  has  deceived  mo  basely, 
wickedly.     Afcii' — I  dare  not.'"' 

"  Dare  not.     \ow,  Mr.  Walraven  —  " 

"  Hear  me  out,  Mollie.     A  woman  who  would  concoct  such 


184 


THE    UNSEENf    ItUlDIX;  IIOOM. 


a  villulnous  plot  would  stop  at  nothing.  Abtliu-tioii  would  bo 
fol!o;va'd  by  ijnii'der.  I  would  not  trust  tier  1.  oil.  Lioiiooforth 
on  liev  Bible  oaLh.  My  life  is  not  au'e  whilu  rAi<j  ivuittius  iu 
tliis  house/' 

'•(hiai'dyl  guui  lyl  how  can  you  say  bui'U  hiTiible  things? 
('onnait  inuriirr?     Vou  know  very  well  bho  \voul.l  not  daro. " 

"  Wives  dare  it  I'VH-ry  woek  if  tho  public  journals  spc^ak  tlr) 
truth.  I  tell  you  I  would  not  trust  her.  U'huro  is  (iuy 
OIe.ind(.'i%  a  loxicoloi^ist  by  prof.'ssion-— vvli:ih  ni'uv  ca^^y  than 
for  him  to  riupplv  hor  with  sutno  subtio  ilinig,  and  call  it  (ata- 
lepsy,  a  cnngtvsLion,  a  di.si;aso  of  the  heart?  I  tell  you,  Mollie, 
after  finding  thera  out,  uiv  life  would  not  be  worili  a  (illip  in 
their  hands.  I  eciuld  as  easily  live  with  a  female  gorillii  as 
with  niani^lie  Oleander." 

*'  Well,"  ir^aid  Mollie,  looking  n  little  startled,"  if  you  foel 
like  that,  oi"  course —     When  do  you  propose — " 

She  pau-ied, 

'*  I  shall  lose  no  time.  1  shall,  seo  Mrs.  Walravon  immedi- 
ately after  broakfast. " 

"'iMit  she  h  ill." 

"  BoshI  She's  shamming.  She's  afraid  to  show  her 
wicked,  plotti;ig  face.  She's  lying  there  to  coneoet  some  new- 
villainy.  I  won't  spare  her — she  didn't  spare  you.  I'll  send 
her  packing,  bag  and  baggage,  before  the  week's  out." 

"  And  if  she  refuses  to  go,  guardy?" 

"Then,"  cried  Mr.  Walraven,  with  flai-'hing  eyes,  "  I'll 
make  her  go.  I'll  have  a  divorce,  bv  Heaven!  She'll  lind 
she  can't  eiimmit  liigh  felonies  in  tliis  eidightened  jige  and  go 
unpunished.  I'd  see  her  boiled  alive  before  I'd  ever  live  with 
her 


agaui. 


With  wtiich  j-'{)i,-ited  deelartition  Mr.  Widraven  finished  hi.n 
breakfast  liml  aros".  His  lirst  proceiuling  was  to  ring  tiie  bci! 
violently.     One  of  the  kilelien  diim.^els  atiswered. 

"  Go  to  Mr-!.  Walravou's  room  and  tell  her  Jlr.  Waliavs .: 
is  cominiT  to  see  her." 

The  girl,  looking  rather  surjjrised,  liaytened  to  obey. 

Mr.  Walr;iven  took  a  turn  or  two  np  and  down  the  room, 
"  nursing  his  wrath  to  keep  it  warm." 

"  The  moi'o  I  think  of  this  iiil\rnal  business,  Mollie,"  l.o 
burst  out,  "  tho  more  enraged  1  g'  t,  If  Doelor  Oleander  uias 
so  madly  in  love  with  you  that  he  tuf-ried  you  oil:  to  prevent 
your  miirrying  any  one  else,  one  might  find  s-ome  excnye  fir 
him.  Lov*s  we  all  know,  is  a  '  .shoi  t-lived  madnest!.'  But 
for  her,  a  woman,  to  invent  thut  diabolical  scheme  in  cold 


h( 


THE    UNSEEN    BPJDIiGROOAr. 


18.: 


bloor],  simply  bocauHO  f-'lie  Imtcd  yoii!     Oh,  it  was  the  work  o? 
ail  ticciirsud  luirriiliin,  aii;l  iievei  to  Ix^  forj'ivciil" 

ih'  strodo  from  the  room  iia  iio  ep'tko,  hi."  face  and  eyes 
fithimf^,  and  Htal  anl  .slraii^ht  to  thd  Hlccping-roorn  of  Mm»^. 
Blancho.  Oiifi  loud  nijt;  then,  hrfore  the  atU'iidaiit  could 
opeti,  It  he  hud  lluiig  it  wide,  and  he  was  standing,  stern  as 
liha  liimutith'id,  above  the  cowering  woman  in  the  bed. 

"  Do  you  leave  the  roomi"  he  (xchiiuicd,  turning  savagely 
upon  the  girl;  *'  and  mind,  no  cav(8drop])ing,  if  you  have  any 
regard  for  wliole  hones.     15e  ofi'I" 

'I'lio  fi'ightened  girl  scampeiid  at  once.  Jlr,  V/alraven 
closed  the  door,  locked  it,  strode  back,  and  stood  glaring  down 
upon  hi.-^  wife  with  folded  arms  and  tiercely  shining  eyes. 

"  Well,  mudame?" 

"  Spare  me,  Carl."  She  held  np  her  arms  in  dire  alTright. 
*'  Forgive  me,  my  husliaiid." 

"  Xeverl"  thundered  Carl  Walraven — "  neverl  you  base, 
plotting  .Jezebell  The  fate  you  allotteil  to  Mollie  Dane  shall 
fall  upon  yourself,  "^'ou  shall  (piiL  this  house  before  the  week 
ends,  never  to  return  to  it  more." 

"Carl!     lluyband— " 

"  Silence,  madajne!  "No  husband  of  yoiiis,  either  now  or 
at  any  future  time!  This  shall  bu  our  lait  interview.  We 
part  to-day  to  meet  no  more.'' 

"  Carll  Carll  for  pity's  sake,  hear  me." 

"  Kot  a  word,  not  a  syllable.  All  the  excuses  in  the  world 
would  not  e.'ccuse  you.  1  never  loved  you — now  1  bate  you. 
After  this  hour  I  never  want  to  look  upon  your  wicked 
wJiite  {li'.-ii  airain." 

lUaiudie  Walraven'a  sjiirit  rose  with  the  insult.  She  flung 
down  the  clothes  and  sat  erect  in  bed,  her  black  eves  Hashing. 

"  Be  it  so!  You  never  loved  me  less  than  I  did  you!  You 
can  not  hate  me  more  than  1  hate  you!  I3ut,  for  all  that,  I 
won't  go!" 

"  You  shall  go— and  that  within  this  week!" 

"  1  tell  you  1  won't!    I  dare  you!     Do  your  worst!" 

"  J)o  you,  mndauie?  Then,  by  IFoaven,  I  aci'cpt  your  chal- 
lenge! Tlic  law  of  divorce  slnll  set  me  free  from  the  vilest 
wife  man  ever  wa^  cursed  with!" 

►She  gave  a  ga-ping  cry,  her  faco  ghnstly  white. 

"  Carl  Walraven,  you  v.'ouM  n<)t  da^e!" 

"Would  1  not?"  with  n  liarsh  laugh.  "Wo  ehall  see. 
You  don't  know  what  Cii"l  Walraveri  is  capable  of  yet,  I  sea" 

"  AV'ait!  wait!  w.-iitl"  liianche  pcreamod  nfter /dm,  in  mor 
tal  terror.     "  T<;11  me  wiiat  you  came  hero  to  propose. " 


180 


THE    UNSEKX    I^RIDEnROOM. 


"  A  soparation,  mad.imo — qnietlj',  without  cclal  or  publlo 
BCRTiflu!.     Ac(;i.'pt  or  n^fuHi;,  sus  you  pleusi;'. " 

*'  Wluit  aro  your  terms?"  sulloiily. 

"  More  liberiil  thuu  you  dosi-rvc.  An  uniiuity  liir^^or  than 
finythiujj  you  ever  had  before  you  niiirried  nio.  a  houho  up  tlie 
]fu(lsou,  and  your  proniiso  novor  to  return  to  New  York. 
With  my  death,  the  antiuity  will  coa-ic,  and  voii  will  bo  penni- 
less. I  don't  (Jioose  to  bo  put  out  of  the  way  by  you  or  your 
poisoning  cousin." 

Jilanche  AValraven's  eyes  flaaheil  fury. 

"  You  are  a  merciless,  iron-hearted  man,  Carl  Walraven, 
and  I  hate  you  I  1  close  with  your  terms,  because  I  can  not 
lielj)  myself;  but  I'll  have  revenge  yet!" 

"  And  the  very  lirst  attempt  you  make,"  said  i\Ir.  Wal- 
raven, coolly,  "  I'll  hand  you  over  to  the  law  as  I  would  the 
commonest  vagrant  that  ))rovvl3  the  streets.  J)on't  think  to 
intimidate  me,  my  lady,  with  your  tragedy  airs  and  liory 
glances.  Mr.  Sanlonyx  will  wait  upon  you  this  afternoon.  If 
you  can  make  it  convenient  to  leave  to-morrow,  you  will  very 
much  oblige  me," 

iris  last  words  were  almost  lost.  Mrs.  Walraven,  with  u 
hysterical  scream,  had  fallen  back  among  the  ])illo\vs  in  strong 
convulsions,  lie  just  stopped  to  give  one  backward  glance  of 
pitiless  loathing,  then  rang  for  her  maid  and  left  the  room. 

And  so  parted  the  ill-assorted  husband  and  wife  to  meet  no 
more.     80  ended  one  mercenary  marriage. 

Carl  Walraven  went  down-stairs,  and  found  Mollio  uneasily 
stwaiting  him. 

"  It's  all  settled,  Mollie,"  he  said.  "  You  are  the  little 
mistress  of  the  house  from  this  day  forward,  until  " — looking 
at  her  earnestly — "  you  get  married." 

MoUie  reddened  and  sliook  her  head. 

"  I  shall  never  get  married,  guardy." 

"  No?    Not  even  to  Hugh  Ingelow?" 

"  Least  of  all  to  Hugh  Ingelow.  Don't  let  us  talk  about  it, 
guardy.     What  did  Mrs.  Walraven  say?'^ 

"  More  than  1  care  to  repeat,  Cricket.  We  won't  talk 
ubout  Mrs.  Wali-aven,  eitlier. " 

"  But,  guardy,  are  you  really  going  to  send  her  away?" 

"  I  really  and  truly  am.  SShe  goes  to-morrow.  Now, 
Mollie  Dane,  there's  no  need  for  you  to  wear  that  pleading- 
face.  She  goes — Uisit's  ilat!  I  woiddn't  live  in  the  hanie 
house  with  her  now  for  a  kingdom.  If  you  say  another  ^\'orl^ 
about  it  we'll  quarrel." 

lie  strode  oil  like  a  sulky  lion,  and  MoUie,  feeling  as  though 


THE    UNSEEN"    RltlDEOnOOM. 


187 


it  wore  nil  her  fault,  was  loft  disconsolate  and  uncomrortablo 


onou.,'ii. 


1  had  rathtT  they  liad  male  it  up,"  she  thought.  "  f 
don't  want  to  bo  tho  v•^ur■i^  of  parting  iiinn  atid  wifo.  Siie  be- 
haved atrociously,  no  (loiil)t,  and  deserves  puni^lirnent;  but  J 
wish  the  punialiini^nt  h*l  fallen  on  the  man,  not  tlio  woman. 
It's  a  Khamc  to  niako  her  siitTer  and  let  that  horrible  doctor 
olT  st;ot-froe. " 

Mr.  "W'al raven,  in  his  studj',  iiuantime,  had  written  a  letter 
to  Lawyer  Sardonyx,  detailing'  in  brief  hi.s  vvi.-.he.s,  and  refpieBt- 
inr(  him  to  <ii!l  upon  Mrs,  Wairaven  in  the  course  of  the  day. 
'riiut  done,  ho  (juittcd  tlie  house,  determined  to  return  no 
more  until  she  had  left. 

'J'iie  afternoon  brought  Hugh  Tngelow.  MoUio  was  alone  in 
hci'  room,  having  a  very  anxious  time;  but  when  liis  name 
wa=!  iuinoiinccd,  she  dropped  the  book  she  was  trviiig  to  read 
ami  made  u  head  lung  rush  down-stairs.  If  Hugh  Ing<low  had 
seen  the  rosy  light  that  leaped  into  her  (dieeks,  the  glad 
sj»arkle  that  kindled  in  her  eyes  at  the  sound  of  his  name,  ho 
could  hai'iily  have  been  insensible  to  their  llattering  iin-])ort. 

Mr.  Ingelow  congratulated  her  on  her  bright  looks  as  ho 
shook  hands. 

"  1  iiever  saw  you  looking  better,"  he  said,  with  earnest 
admiration. 

"  LookK  are  deceitful,  then,"  ?aid  ^Mollic,  shaking  her  curly 
liead  dolefully.  "  I  don't  think  I  over  [elt  worse,  even  when 
cooped  up  in  Doctor  Oleander's  prison." 

'*  l.'cally!     What  has  gone  wrong  now?"  the  artist  inquired. 

"  Kverything  dreadful  I  The  mos't  .^hocking  tempests  in 
tea-pots.     <iuardy  is  going  to  separate  from  his  wifel" 

"Indoedl"  said  Mr.  Ingelow,  coolly.  "The  very  best 
tiling  lij  could  do." 

"Oh.  M'.  rngelowl" 

"Qniift  triir,  Mollie.  She's  a  Tartar,  if  ever  there  was  a 
Tartar.  ITo  ccinniitted  a  terrible  aet  of  folly  when  he  married 
her;  let  h^rn  sliow  his  return  to  wisdom  by  sending  her  adrift. 
I  don't  pi!y  her  in  the  lea-^t.  If  he  forgave  her  this  tiIU(^,  slie 
would  simply  despise  him,  and  lugin  her  machinations  ail  over 
again," 

"  No!     Do  you  think  so?     'J'hen  I'm  not  to  blame?" 

"  You!"  Mr.  Ingelow  laugh. d.  "  1  should  think  not,  in- 
deed I  Set  that  tender  little  heart  of  yours  at  rest,  J\Iollie. 
IMiuuihc  Walraven  is  big  atid  fierce,  anil  a^.Ie  to  take  caro  of 
herself.  liot  vs  get  rid  of  her  quietlv,  if  we  can,  and  bo 
ihankful." 


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188 


THE    UNSEEX    BRIDEGROOM. 


\ 


'  txiluiiudl  (ho 
liiulL't  oii('l)ier 


It  is 


'*  Mr.  Sftvdonyx  h  with  hor  now,"  pa'd  Mollie,  "  arranging 
matters.  Oil,  diarl  I  oiin't  lu^Ip  fteliu^'  nervous  ami  troubled 
about  it.  It's  not  fair  to  puiii-li  her  and  lot  i)ocl:>r  Oleander 
go  off  scot-free." 

"  His  punisliment  is  his  detection  and  your  loss,  Millie,  I 
can  think  of  no  heavier  punidiujcnt  than  that.  I  mtt  him, 
by  the  bye,  in  Broadway,  as  largo  as  li'e,  and  a?  intp'^imi  tm 
the  gentioinan  with  the  cloven  foot.  He  bowed,  and  I  stared, 
and  cut  him  dead,  of  course. '* 

Before  Mollie  could  ppeak.  the  door-bell  rang.  A  nionieat 
later  and  theie  was  thu  s  Miml  of  an  aiteroution  in  the  hall. 

"  You  can't  see  Miss  Dune,  vou  raganiul.ini' 
mellifluous  tones  of  footman  Wilson.     "  You 
ring  the  door-bell!     'I'he  airy's  for  feu(  h  as  you  I" 

It  is  Miriam!"  cried  Mollie,  ruiming  to  the  door, 
sorely  Miriam  at  last!" 

But  it  was  not  Miriam.  It  was  a  dirty-faced  boy — a  tatter- 
demalion of  fourteen  years — with  cliarp,  knowing  black  eyea. 
Those  intelligent  orbs  tixed  on  the  young  lady  at  once. 

*'  Be  you  Miss  Dane— Mis"  Mollie  ]>aiie— mi.^s?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Mollie.     "  Who  are  yon?" 

"Sammy  Slimuiens,  miss.  Miss  Miriam  ecjit  me,  miss — 
she  did." 

"  Miriam!''     Are  you  sure!-'     Why  didn't  she  come  herself?'* 

"  Couldn't,  miss,"  nodding  sagaciously.  "  bhe'g  very  bad, 
she  is.     Got  runued  over,  miss." 

*'  Run  over!"  Mollio  cried,  in  horror. 

"Corner  Fulton  Street,  nii-s,  and  l>roadwav.  Yei^terday 
morning  'twas.  I  told  the  policeman  where  she  livid,  and  ho 
fotched  her  home.  Won't  live,  they  say,  atid  she's  sent  for 
you.     Got  something  very  'tioular  to  tell  yon,  ini.ss." 

"  I  will  go  at  once,"  Mollie  paid,  unutterably  distressed. 
"  My  poor  Miriam!  I  might  have  known  soniething  had  hap- 
pened, or  she  would  have  l»  en  here  before  lhi>." 

She  flew  upstairs  and  was  back  again,  d  .  ed  fur  tke  street, 
in  ten  minutes. 

"  Permit  me  to  accompany  you.  Miss  Dane,"  .':aid  Htigli 
Ingelow,  stepping  forward.  "  You  have  been  entrapped  be- 
fore. We  will  bo  on  our  guard  this  time.  Now,  my  man," 
to  the  hero  of  the  rags  and  (atters,  "  lead  on:  we  follow." 

The  boy  darted  away,  and  Mr.  Ingelow.  wiih  Mollie's  hand 
drawn  through  his  arm,  set  oil  alter  him  at  a  rapid  rate. 


THE    I.X3EEK    RlilDEGROOM. 


isy 


CHAPTE»?   XXVI. 

MIKIAll'S   -TORY. 

A  MISERABLE  attic  cbaoiber,  dimly  liglited  by  one  dirty 
sky-light,  a  uiiseiiible  bcl  in  one  porner,  a  broken  chair,  an 
old  wooden  chest,  a  ri«.kciy  table.,  a  few  articles  of  deif,  a 
tiuiible-ilawn  iittli.'  cook-store. 

That  wiMi  the  picf.ir?  Mol!;e  Dane  savv,  standing  ou  the 
thrt'shold  of  Miriam's  room- 
There  was  no  decf'i.tiofi  this  time.  On  that  wretched  bed 
lay  the  broken  an  1  brairtd  figine  of  the  woman  Miriam, 
dying. 

J  lor  deep,  labor'.-.]  brea-hing  was  painfully  audible,  even 
ouf.sido  the  room;  her  st.oiig  thvat  rose  and  fell — every  breath 
tortnre. 

iJy  her  siile  sat  the  mothc-r  of  the  raggcxl  boy,  holding  a 
drink  to  her  liprf,  an  1  coaxing  her  t  j  open  her  mouLh  and  try 
to  swallow. 

In  vivid  contra-t  to  all  ib'3  poverty  and  abject  wretched- 
ness, the  young  f:i.l  in  the  iltx.r-'-ray  stood,  with  her  fair, 
blooming  face,  her  iluttering  goldeu  ringlets,  her  rich  silken 
garments,  anil  fclej::int  uir. 

The  woman  by  the  bed  turned  round  and  stared  for  a  mo- 
raonf:  then  — 

"  Be  von  the  voung  lailv  as  Mrs.  Miriam  sent  mv  Sammy 
for:-"'  she  a:skeil.' 

"  Yea,"  said  Mollie,  coming  forward.     "  How  is  she?" 

"  IJad  as  bad  lan  be,  miss.  Won't  never  see  another  day, 
the  doctor  say^. " 

*'  My  poor  Miriam — my  jK>or  Miriam!" 

Th'J  slow  tears  gathereJ  in  her  eyes  ha  she  bent  above  her 
and  saw  the  pimhfd.  sharpentl  fuce,  with  the  blue  tinge  of 
coming  death  ahvaily  dawi.i^g  ihe^-e. 

"  Bo  you  a  nlaiion?"'  the  woman  asked,  cariously.  But 
MoIIie  did  not  answer — she  was  stooping  over  (he  sick  woman, 
absorbed. 

"  Miriam!"  she  eai'l.  w'lly,  taking  the  skinny  hand  in  both 
h(3r  own — '*  Miriam,  l^J\Jk  upl  fe|)eak  to  mc.  It  is  1— your 
osvn  Miillie. " 

'J'he  sound  of  that  lieloved  voice  ponctrntcd  the  death  fog 
already  blurring  every  '«.  uliy.  'J'he  dulled  eyes  opened  with 
u  sudden,  joyful  iigh;  of  recoguiilon. 


190 


THE    UNSEEi^    15KIDEGR00M. 


"  Mollie,"  she  said,  *'  iny  dear  little  Moliie.  i  knew  yoa 
would  oome." 

"  1  am  Tsry,  very  sorry  to  see  you  iilie  tbij?,  Mirium.  Do 
you  suffer  much  paiu?" 

"  Not  now — only  a  dull  ucliing  from  heml  to  foot.  But 
eyen  that  will  soon  bo  over.  I  um  ;rlad.  My  lifo  hu«  been 
nothing  for  the  past  si.iteen  years  but  one  long  torment.  I 
am  glad  it  is  so  nearly  done.  Mollie,"  tixitig  her  haggard  eyes 
solemnly  on  her  face,  "  you  know  I  will  never  see  another 
sunrise." 

"  My  poor,  poor  Miriam  I" 

"  Are  you  sorry  for  poor  Miriam,  Mollie?" 

''Sorrier  than  soiryl  What  other  relativii  have  1  in  the 
wide  world  but  j^oii?" 

"  Not  one,  Mollie^.  But  I  am  a  relative  you  need  hardly 
grieve  for,  I  have  been  a  bad,  cruel  woman — the  worst 
woman  that  ever  lived  to  vou,  mv  poor  little  girl!" 

"Miriam!" 

"Ah!  dou't  look  at  me  with  those  innocent,  wondering 
blue  eyes!  You  shall  know  all.  1  can't  die  with  my  story 
untold,  my  secret  uurevealod.  Mrs.  Slimmenrf,  I  iiave  some- 
thing very  j)articular  to  say  to  this  young  lady.  I'lease  to 
leave  us  alon(3. " 

The  woman,  with  a  disappointed  look,  rose  up  and  quitted 
the  room. 

Mollie  drew  up  the  only  chair  and  seated  herse.*  by  the  bed- 
side. 

**  Did  you  come  here  alone?"  was  Miriam's  first  question, 
W^ion  they  were  together. 

*'  No,"  said  Mollie,  coloring  slightly.  "  Mr.  Ingelow  came 
•,?ith  me.     He  is  waiting  below." 

"  That  is  well.  It  is  growing  late,  and  the  neighborhood  is 
not  a  good  one.     He  saved  yoii,  did  he  not?" 

"  He  did.     I  owe  him  my  life — my  liberty." 

"  1  knew  he  would — I  know  he  would!  1  trusted  him  from 
the  first.  Mollie,  do  you  know  why  I  sent  for  you  in  my 
dying  hour?" 

"To  tell  me  who  I  am." 

"  Yes — you  would  like  to  know?" 

"  More  than  anything  else  in  the  wide  world." 

"  And  have  you  no  idea— no  suspicion?" 

Mollie  hesitated. 

"  I  have  sometimes  thought,"  reddening  painfully,  "that 
I  might  be  Mr.  Walraven's  daughter." 


THE    UNSEEN    PRIDEGROOM. 


101 


''  Ah!"  said  Miriam,  her  eyes  lighting;  *'  and  he  thinks  so, 
too!" 

"Miriam!" 

"  \w,"  said  Miriam,  exultingly,  "  he  thinks  so— he  believet 
^^'),  ami  so  does  ids  wife.  But  for  all  that,  not  one  drop  of  his 
blood  flows  in  your  veins!" 

♦'Milium!" 

"  Not  one  drop!  If  thcrr^  did,  you  should  not  now  be 
itanding  by  my  death  bed.  1  would  exjiire  unropenting  and 
liiiooiifc'ssod.  Moliie,  you  are  mine — my  very  own — my 
daiiizhtcr!" 

She  raised  herself  on  her  elbow  and  caiicht  Moliie  in  her 
amis  with  a  sudden,  fierce  strength.  The  girl  stood  perfectly 
speechless  with  the  bhock. 

"  My  child — my  child — my  chiid!  For  years  1  have  hun- 
L'ered  and  thirsted  for  this  hour.  1  have  desired  it  as  the  blind 
desire  sight.  My  child — my  child!  have  you  no  woru  /;)ryour 
dying  mother?" 

"Motlier!" 

The  word  broke  from  MoUio's  white  lips  like  a  sobbing  sigh. 
The  intense  surpri.se  of  the  unexpected  revelation  stunned  her. 

"  You  believe  me,  tlien-  you  do  believe  me!"  Miriam  cried, 
holding  her  fast. 

"  You  are  dying."  was  Mullie's  solemn  answer.  "  Oh,  my 
mother!  why  did  you  not  tell  me  this  before?" 

*'  Because  1  would  not  disgrace  you  and  drag  you  down.  I 
loved  you  far  too  well  for  that.  I  could  have  done  nothing 
for  you  but  bespatter  you  with  the  mire  in  which  I  wallowed, 
and  I  wanted  you,  my  beautiful  one — my  pearl,  my  lily — to  be 
spotless  as  mountain  ?now.  It  can  do  you  no  harm  to  know 
when  i  am  dead." 

"  And  Carl  Walraven  is  nothing  to  me?" 

*'  Nothing,  Moliie — less  than  nothif)g.  Not  one  drop  of  his 
black  blood  flows  in  your  veins.     Are  you  sorry,  Moliie?" 

"  No,"  said  Mollio,  drawing  a  long  breath.  '*  No!"  sha 
repeated,  more  decidedly.     "  I  am  glad,  Miriam — mother." 

"  You  can  call  me  nu)lhcr,  then,  liespite  all?" 

*'  Sin-ely,"  Mollio  said,  gravely;  "  ami  now  tell  me  all." 

*'  Ah,  it  is  a  long,  sad  story — a  wicked  and  miserable  story 
of  shame,  anl  sin,  and  siilfering!  It  is  a  cruel  thing  to  blight 
your  yomijj^'  lifii  with  tlio  record  of  such  horrd)le  things." 

"1  mav  surely  beiir  what  others  have  to  endure.  Bnt, 
Miriam,  before  you  begin,  do  you  really  mean  to  tell  me  Mr. 
Walraven  thinks  nr.e  his  daughter?" 


192 


THE    UNSEEN    BRIDEO'OOM. 


"  He  believes  it  as  snrely  aa  he  bolieves  In  TTeavon.  He 
thinka  you  are  his  chilil — Mu  7  Dune's  diuighte'.-." 

"  Who  waa  Mary  Dimo?" 

"Your  fathtu-'s  sister  by  marriage — done  tr>  death  by  Carl 
Wal  raven." 

Mollio  turned  very  pale. 

"  Tell  me  iill,"  piie  (^aid.  "  Begin  at  the  beginning.  Here, 
drinic  th':? — it.  is  «-ine.  *' 

She  had  brouii^dit  a  pocIcet-flii«k  with  her.  81ie  filled  a 
broken  tea-ciip  and  licld  it  to  the  dry,  pjirchud  lijjs. 

Miriam  draint'd  it  eagerly. 

"  Ah!"  she  said,  "  that  is  new  life!  Sit  do\\'n  here  by  me, 
Mollie,  where  1  can  see  you;  give  me  your  Imnds.   Kow  liiten: 

"  MolHe,  you  are  eitrliloen  ycar.s  old,  tliou^^li  ncillior  you  nor 
Carl  Walraven  thinks  bo.  You  are  eigiili-cn  tiiis  ve-y  month. 
His  child,  whom  he  tiiinka  you  are,  wotd  I  ho  almost  seveniecn, 
if  alive.     She  died  when  a  hub')  of  two  ycais  old. 

"  Eighteen  years  ago,  Mollie,  I  wis  a  luip'iy  wife  and 
mother.  Down  in  Devon  rehire,  in  the  little  vilhiijo  of  Sl,ee2)Ie 
Hill,  my  husband  and  1  lived,  wliere  v/e  hud  b.ith  b.en  b'lrn, 
where  we  had  courted  and  married,  where  wo  h^ped  to  lay 
our  bones  at  last.  Alas  and  aliss!  he  fills  a  bloody  grave  in 
the  land  of  strangers,  and  I  am  drawing  my  hist,  l)realh  iti  far 
America.     And  all,  Mollie— all  owing  10  Carl  W'aliaven." 

She  paused  a  moment.  The  girl  held  tlie  cup  of  wine  to 
her  lips.  A  few  swallows  revived  her,  and  enabled  her  to  go 
on. 

"  There  were  two  brothers,  James  and  Ste])hen  Dane. 
James,  the  elder  by  six  years,  was  my  hubiuid  and  your 
father.  We  lived  in  the  old  Dune  homestead — we  tline — u 
huppy  and  prosperous  household.  We  needed  but  your  com- 
ing, my  daugbter,  to  fdl  our  cup  of  joy  to  the  very  brim.  Xo 
woman  in  all  broad  England  was  a  happier  wife  and  mother 
than  Miriam  Dane  when  you  were  laid  upon  mv  breast. 

"  We  named  our  baby-girl  Miriam — your  father  would  have 
it  80— and  you  grew  liealthful  and  beautifid,  fair  and  blue- 
eyed,  as  it  is  in  the  nature  of  the  Danes  to  be.  I  was  glaij  you 
had  not  my  black  eyes  and  gyi)sy  skin.  I  think  1  loved  you 
all  the  more  because  you  were  your  father's  image. 

"  Ah,  Mollie,  I  never  can  toll  you  what  a  blessed,  peaceful 
household  we  were  until  you  wpvq  three  months  old!  Then 
the.  first  change  took  place — Stephen  Dane  got  mai-ried. 

"  At  Wortley  Manor,  juFt  without  the  confinevS  of  Steeple 
Hill,  lived  Sir  Johin  Worthy  and  his  lady.  They  had  eomo 
to  apend  the  hot  mouths  down  in  the  country,  and  my  lady 


THE    UNSEEN    BiUDEGIiOOM. 


198 


Here, 
illed  a 


i 


Lad  brought  with  hor  a  London  ludy's-mai.I,  full  of  London 
airs  and  gracerf,  Htylea  and  fu.-hionB.  She  waw  a  pn^tty  girl, 
this  biixoni  Mary  fiintoii,  with  llaxen  uuils,  and  liglit  bhie 
eyes,  miuI  a  skin  wliilo  as  milk  and  soft  aa  satin.  »She  nouid 
Hing  like  an  angtd,  and  danuo  liku  u  fairy,  and  drct^s  and  talk 
likf  inv  lady  hi-rsclf. 

"  Of  (iO'irsG,  bt.'fore  alio  liad  been  a  month  in  the  place,  she 
had  Ituntd  tlio  heads  of  all  tho  young  felloivs  in  the  village, 
Steplib.i  Dane's  iinjong  tho  rest.  I'.nt  while  alio  cocjiiClLcd 
with  all,  she  smili'd  most  sweetly  on  8te|ihen,  v/iUi  his  threo 
hundred  p.Tunds  laid  by  in  bank,  his  broad  t-houhh'rs,  his  lofty 
stature  and  his  liearty  look:<.  Three  months  after  she  camo 
to  Wort  ley  Manor,  L-he  was  Stephen  Dune's  wife. 

"  That  marriage  was  the  beginning  of  all  the  trouble, 
Mollio.  1'lu'y  left  the  farm,  this  young  pair,  and  set  up  a 
pnblic-honso.  A  puhliu  suited  M;try  Dane  to  tho  life.  IShe 
llaanted  in  gay  drosses  and  bright  ribbons,  and  gossiped  over 
the  bar  with  the  customers,  ar.tl  had  all  tho  news  of  the  place 
pat  at  her  tongue's  end.  And  Stephen,  ho  took  to  drink — n 
little,  at  first,  to  be  jovial  with  the  (uu-itomcrs;  more  and  more 
gialually,  until,  at  the  end  of  (he  honiy-moon,  hu  was  iiulf 
his  time  nn  the  fuildle.  And  Mary  Dane  didn't  care.  She 
laughed  in  her  pretty  way  when  people  talked. 

"  '  Lvt  him  take  his  gl.irfs,  M  i  iam,'  says  she  to  mo.  '  Ile'i 
fonder  of  me  in  his  (mjjx-,  and  betio.-natured  every  way,  than 
when  he's  sober.  As  long  as  my  man  doesn't  biat  me  and 
pull  the  house  about  our  heads,  I'll  never  say  him  nay.' 

"  it  was  near  tho  end  of  the  second  month  that  a  sick 
traveler  stopped  at  tho  Wort'ey  Arms — so  they  called  the  inn 
— atid  lay  very  ill  there  for  weeks  and  weeks.  He  had  taken 
(;()ld  and  got  a  fever,  and  ho  wa^  very  poorly  and  like  to  die, 
Mary  Datio,  with  all  her  airy  ways,  bad  a  tender  heart  and  a 
soft  head,  r.ni]  she  turned  to  and  nursed  the  sick  man  like  a 
sister.  They  took  such  care  of  him  at  the  Wortley  Arms  that 
ho  got  Will,  and  in  three  weeks  was  able  to  be  up  and  about. 

"  This  strange  gentleman  gave  the  name  of  Mr.  Walls;  and 
ho  was  young  and  handsome,  and  very  rich.  He  spent  money 
like  water;  he  paid  the  doctor  and  the  landlord  atd  the  niu'ses 
as  if  he  hail  been  a  prince.  He  had  a  pleasant  word  and  jest 
for  every  ono.  He  was  hand  and  glove  with  Stephen  Dane, 
and  heaped  presents  on  presents  on  his  wife.  He  gave  her  silk 
dressea  and  gold  rings  and  cosily  shawls  and  guy  bonnets  until 
people  began  to  talk.  What  did  he  care  for  their  talkir  what 
did  Mary  Dane,  either?  He  liigered  and  lingered.  The 
talking  grew  louder,  until,  at  lu&t,  it  reached  the  ears  of 


m 


TUi:     lN.5h;EN    liUIDEGUOOM. 


Stephen  Dane.     Ue  took   it  quietly.     '  It's  uiighty  dull  for 
the  likes  of  you  here,  Mr.  Walla,'  ho  says  to  the  gentleman, 
looking  him  full  in  the  eye.     '  It's  no  place  for  a  young  gen- 
tleman, in  my  notion.     I  think  you  had  better  bo  going.' 
"  '  l3o  you?'  siivri  Mr.  Walls,  l»ack  aguiii,  im  t;oo!  as  liimself. 


I'll    BOtllo 


my  bill  to-night  aiul 


*  You  are  right,  I  dare  say. 
be  off  to-morrow.' 

'*  He  did  settle  his  bill  a!,  the  bar  brfore  they  ])arted,  took  a 
last  glass  with  Stephen  Dane,  and  walked  u])  to  his  room, 
whistling.  Steeple  Hill  nev»T  saw  him  more.  Wlifii  morning 
came  he  was  far  away,  and  Miiry  Dane  wilh  hitn. " 

Again  Miriam  paused;  a^^ain  Mellie  held  the  wine-cup  to 
her  lips;  again  she  drank  anil  went  on: 

"  I  couldn't  tell  you,  Moiiie,  if  I  would,  the  shoe  k  and  the 
scandal  that  ran  throujrh  Steeple  Hill,  and  1  wouldn't  if  I 
could.  If  it  were  in  my  powe;',  such  horrors  would  never 
reach  your  innocent  ears.  J'xit  they  were  gone,  and  Stephen 
Dane  was  like  a  man  mad.  lie  drank,  and  diank,  and  drank 
nntil  he  was  blind  drunk,  and  then,  in  sj)ite  of  everybody,  sot 
oflf  to  go  after  them,  Before  he  had  got  ten  yards  from  his 
own  doorstep  he  fell  down  in  a  fit,  blood  pouring  from  his 
mouth  and  nostrils.     That  night  ho  died. 

"  The  hour  of  his  death,  when  he  knew  he  had  but  a  fevr 
moments  to  live,  he  turned  erery  soul  out  of  the  room,  and 
made  his  brother  kneel  down  and  take  u  solemn  oath  of  venge- 
ance. 

"  '  I'll  never  rest  easy  in  my  grave,  dames,'  said  the  dying 
man,  '  and  I'll  never  let  you  rest  easy  in  your  life,  until  you 
have  avenged  me  on  my  wronger.' 

"  Your  father  kncii  down  and  swore.  It  was  a  bad,  bad 
death-bed,  and  a  bad,  bad  oath.  But  he  took  it;  and  Ste[)lien 
Dane  died,  with  his  brother's  hand  clasped  in  h\?,  and  his 
dying  eyes  fixed  on  his  brother's  face. 

"They  buried  the  dead  man;  and  when  the  sods  were  piled 
above  him,  your  father  told  me  of  the  vow  ho  had  made — the 
TOW  he  meant  to  keep.  What  coidd  I  say?  what  could  I  do? 
1  wept  woman's  tears,  1  said  woman's  words.  I  pleaded,  I 
reasoned,  I  entreated — all  in  vain.  He  would  go,  and  lui 
went. 

'*  He  followed  the  guilty  pair,  like  a  blood-hound,  for  weary 
months  and  months.  For  a  long  time  it  seemed  as  thou<.;!i  ho 
must  give  up  tho  search  as  fruitless;  but  at  last,  in  the  open 
street  of  a  French  city,  he  met  the  man  Walls  face  to  face. 
He  flew  at  him  like  a  madman,  grasped  his  throat,  and  held 
him  until  the  man  turned  black  in  the  fao^.    But  ho  wae 


THE    UNSEEX    BRIDEGROOM. 


195 


ill  for 
eman, 

Diself. 
it  and 


)ll])   to 


lUhe,  and  younsj,  and  powerful,  and  ho  shook  him  off  at  last. 
Then  conimeit  'cd  a  atriig^Ie  for  lifo  or  death.  The  Htrcet 
was  a  lonely  one;  the  time  past  midni^'ht.  No  one  wan 
abroad;  not  a  iroatiiro  was  to  be  aeen.  Walbj  ])ulled  out  a 
pistol  and  shot  .lames  J)aue  through  the  head.  With  a  cry  of 
agony,  the  murdered  man  fell  forward  on  his  face.  Another 
instant,  and  Walls  had  iled.  The  dead  man  was  alone  in  the 
deserted  street. 

"  Next  day  the  pa])er8  were  full  of  the  mystorious  murder, 
but  before  next  day  Walls  and  Mary  Dane  were  far  awaj. 
Kewards  wore  olTered  by  the  government,  the  police  were  set 
on  the  track,  but  all  in  vain — the  murderer  was  not  to  be 
found. 

"  But  th  re  was  one  who  knew  it,  and  to  whom  the  knowl- 
edge was  a  death-blow — guilty  Mary  Dane.  At  all  times  she 
had  been  more  weak  than  wicked,  and  when  Walls  liad  fled 
home,  blood-stained  and  ghastly,  and  in  his  first  frenzy  had 
told  her  all,  she  dropped  down  at  his  feet  like  a  dead  woman. 

"  Mary  Dane  tied  with  him  from  the  scene  of  his  crime,  be- 
cause his  baby  daughter  lay  on  her  arm,  and  she  would  not 
see  its  guilty  father  die  a  felon's  death;  but  her  heart  was 
torn  with  remorse  from  Ihat  hour.  Sho  never  held  up  her 
head  again.  Her  wicked  love  turned  to  hatred  and  loathing; 
the  very  tlrat  opportunity  sho  left  him,  and,  like  a  distracted 
creature,  made  her  way  home. 

"  Walls  made  no  ellort  to  follow  her — he  thought  she  had 

gone  off  in  a  lit  of  remorse  and  misery  and  disowned  herself, 
[e  was  glad  to  be  rid  of  her,  and  he  left  France  at  once,  and 
wandered  away  over  the  world. 

"  Mary  Dane  came  home  with  her  child — home  to  die.  On 
her  death-bed  sho  told  mo  the  story  of  my  husband's  death, 
and  from  the  hour  1  heard  it,  Reason  tottered  on  her  throne. 
I  have  never  been  sane  since  my  misery  drove  me  mad. 

*'  Mary  Dane  died,  and  I  buried  her.  The  child  went  t* 
the  work-house — I  would  not  have  touched  it  with  a  pair  of 
tongs — and  there  it,  too,  died  of  lack  and  care.  And  so  the 
miserable  story  of  sin  and  shame  ended,  as  all  such  stories 
must  end. 

"  But  the  misery  did  not  end  here.  You  were  left  me,  but 
1  seemed  to  care  for  you  no  longer.  I  sat  down,  a  stunned 
and  senseless  thing,  and  let  all  belonging  to  me  go  to  rack 
and  ruin.  The  farm  wont,  the  furniture  went,  the  homestead 
wont — 1  was  left  a  widowed,  penniless,  half -crazed  wretch. 
Thus  all  was  gone  but  the  clothes  upon  our  backs — ^you  went, 
loOk    We  w«r«  stftrving^  bat  for  the  pityiug  charity  of  oihtra 


196 


THE    UNSEKN    lilllDKOROOM. 


Aa  yoii  sat  tiing'm^^  by  tlio  roaJ-aide,  the  iimimgor  of  n  strolling 
band  of  pluyois  ovorhoard  you,  took  a  fancy  to  your  {trotty 
looks,  ami  wayrf,  an<l  voice,  and  niado  ni"  an  oJTor  for  yon.  I 
don't  think  I  knew  what  I  mm  doing  half  thu  time — I  didn't 
then — I  k-t.  yon  go. 

"When  yon  wore  gon'j  I  broke  down  aItogC'th;>f,  and  tlio 
anthorities  of  the  village  took  and  shnt  mo  np  in  a  lunatic 
asylum.  The  years  1  spent  then! — ami  1  spent  ^ix  l.'Ug  ycarj 
— are  but  a  didl,  dead  blank.  My  life  began  aga.n  when  lir.'y 
sent  mo  forth,  as  they  said — L;(n'ed. 

"I  left  Steeple  Hill  and  began  my  life  as  a  tramp.  I 
joined  a  band  of  gypsies,  and  i.)ok  to  lla-ir  ways — foilune- 
tolling,  rnsh-weaving — anytinng  that  eamo  up;  and  1  was 
blaok  enough  and  weather-beaten  enougli  tr>  p:'.is  for  one  of 
them.  I  had  but  one  desire  li.ft  in  lif  .• — lo  hunt  iiu  the  man- 
ager of  the  little  theater,  and  see  my  daughl'-r  again.  1 
didn't  want  you  back.  Wluit  could  I,  a  ndserablo  tramjv, 
homeless,  housdess,  do  with  a  young  giri? — but  J  hungi-rod 
and  thirsted  for  the  sound  of  your  voire,  f'->r  tl;j  .sigl't  of  your 
face.  1  would  know  you  anywhere — you  Vv'eie  oi  the  kind 
that  do  not  change  much.  I  knew  1  would  reeogni/.o  yo.i  as 
soon  as  1  saw  you. 

"  For  two  years  I  strolled  about  with  tlio  gypsy  gaug» 
searching  in  vain.  Thon  mv  tiniO  came,  and  I  t^w  you.  It 
was  at  Liverpo!)!,  end)arking  on  board  a  vessol  for  Anii-riv'a. 
I  had  money — made  in  those  two  yeuvs;'  wandering— hii'di'n 
in  my  breast,  more  than  enough  for  my  paaoag;.«.  I  crost;t.td 
the  Atlantic  in  the  same  vessel  with  you,  and  never  luct  sigiit 
of  you  since. 

"  But  a  great,  a  mighty  shock  v.as  waiting  for  mo  this  sido 
tho  ocean.  On  the  pior.  as  wo  lauded,  MoUie,  th.?  iirsi,  person 
my  eyes  rested  on  was  the  man  Walls — older,  darker,  etorii-r 
than  when  I  saw  him  before,  but  my  arch-enemy — the  miu. 
derer  Walls. 

"  Mollie,  I  let  you  go  and  I  followed  that  man  home, 
followed  him  to  a  mansion  that  was  like  a  palace,  and  1  hcaril 
his  name — his  real  name.     Mollie,  Moilie,  do  you  need  to  be 
told  what  that  naiue  is?" 

'*  No,"  said  Mollie,  in  a  horror-struck  voice;  "  it  is  Carl 
Walravenl" 

"  It  is.  Now  do  yovi  know  why  1  hato  aim — why  I  would 
die  the  death  of  a  dog  by  the  way-side  before  1  would  take  a 
erust  from  him?" 

"  Aud  yet,"  Mollie  cried  in  a  voice  of  bitter  anguish,  "  you 


THE    UNSEEN     nniDEGUOO.U. 


m 


nave  lot  mo,  .fuinos  Dane's  ^^h\^,  cih  of  hi.s  hwml,  drink  of  liia 
cup,  (I'.v.ll  uvAev  his  roofl    Ul),  my  nioil:-    '" 

Al  thii^  p'orciiif^  cry  of  uiiuttorablij  ^cproiieli,  tho  dyh\i> 
vrouuvA  held  uii  her  siii»pli.';itiri(^  Imnd--. 

"  (t  w.M  b.:ciiii«o  1  love. I  yi-ii  a  th"iK--!inil  timoH  beltof  Ihiitj 
niy;uf— 1)'. tier  tlmn  my  rovonge.  i'or^'ivo  mo,  MoUie — ".vr- 
{/i.e  me!" 

"  "^'oii  aro  my  mother,  unrl  yon  are  <lying,"  Mf/Ilid  eaid- 
palv^miilv,  bending  down  und  ki-'.-ing  her.  "  1  forgive  you 
cvcryMiing.  Ikit  J  will  never  eet  foot  umlor  Cail  V/aU'aven'a 
roof  again." 


CIIAPTKJi   XX VV. 

1)  K  A  J)     A  N  I)     II  I'  i;  T  i;  1). 

TiTK  twilight  wa;5  f,d!'i)g  wi  h'lut— !!i.j  iiit  silvery  radianco 
<•[  the  dying  (h;y  htruani-'d  Lii:n::L'!i  tho  dirty,  broken  attio 
window,  and  lighted,  an  wiUi  a  pale  glory,  iMoUio's  drooping 
licad  atid  oani'-st,  riMldened  face. 

Miriam  hti.l  ftillen  buok  upon  tlio  p'ilov/,  exhausted,  pant- 
ing, laboring  for  lireath. 

Tlioic!  was  a  long  panse;  then  ^.Tollie  lifU'd  her  bowed  head 
untl  drew  closer  to  the  dying  woman. 

"  l''inish  your  ytory,"  isho  laid,  f:oftly,  sadly. 

"It  i;-!  liniHlied,"  Miriiini  answered,  in  a  voice,  scarcely 
above  a  whis])er.  *'  ^'on  know  the  rccit.  I  went  to  yon,  as 
you  remembor,  Ihu  day  after  you  laiuu'd,  and  proved  to  you 
that  1  wa'^  yoiu"  aimt — a  f:ii.sehooil,  MolU.',  which  my  love  and 
my  l)ri  le  be;i;ot. 

"Some  dim  reoullectioii  of  mo  and  your  childhood's  d-iys 
yet  lingered  in  your  breast — you  believed  me.     You  told  mo 

you  were  going  to  K .    You  gave  me  money,  anil  promised 

to  write  to  me.  You  were  so  sweet,  so  gentle,  so  pitying,  so 
beautiful,  tliat  1  lo.ed  you  tenfold  more  than  ever.  Your  life 
was  one  of  laliov,  and  drudgery,  and  danger.  If  I  could  only 
make  you  a  lady,  I  thought!  My  half-orazcrl  bniin  caught  at 
the  idea,  and  held  it  fast — if  I  could  only  make  you  a  lady! 

"  Ijiko  lightning  those  dawned  upon  me  a  plan.  The  man 
who  had  wronged  ha  all  so  unutterably  was  rich  and  powerful 
— why  should  I  not  u.-e  him?  Huioly,  it  could  not  bo  wrong 
— it  woidd  bo  a  j';.-t  and  ri;;hteous  rejiaralion.  11(5  need  not 
kTiow  you  were  my  ebild— with  that  knowledge  J  would  far 
sooner  have  seen  you  dead  than  (IiM)('nd(mt  upon  him — but  let 
him  think  vou  were  his  very  own  (Mary  Dane's)  dead  child, 
uud  where  would  bo  tho  oblit'^tion? 


IH 


THE    UNREFN    URTDEOROOM. 


**  I  ooulcl  iioidior  hIocji  nor  eat  foi  tliiiiking  of  this  plot  of 
mine.  Your  iiim;ji;o,  bright  and  Vjoiuitifiil  in  .silken  robes  and 
sparivIinjEf  jewelH,  \Viiit',;i]  upon  by  obedient  sorvantB,  u  life  of 
case  and  luxurv  for  my  diirling  whom  1  hiid  drsortod — a  lady 
among  the  hulios  of  llio  land — haunted  mu  by  night  and  by 
day. 

"I  yielded  at  last.  I  went  to  Carl  ^VaI raven,  and  stood 
boldly  up  bi«for(5  him,  and  faeed  him  until  he  rpjailed.  Con- 
idienco  makes  towards  of  the  bravest,  they  say,  and  I  suppose 
)♦.  was  moio  hiaguiliy  con  .cioneu  than  fear  of  me;  but  the  fear 
,vas  there.  I  threatened  him  with  exposure — 1  threatened  to 
let  the  world  know  his  biaek  eriuiDS,  until  ho  turned  white  as 
the  dead  before  me. 

"  He  knew  and  I  knew,  in  our  heait  of  hearts,  that  I  could 
do  nothing.  JIow  could  I  substantiate  a  charge  of  murder 
done  years  ago  in  I'Vanee? — how  prove  it?  How  bring  It 
home  to  him?  My  wordi?  would  bo  treated  as  the  rarings  of  u 
mad-woman,  ana  1  would  be  locked  up  in  a  mad-house  for  my 
pains. 

"  But  knowing  all  this,  and  knowing  1  knew  it,  ho  never- 
theless feared  me,  ,  -I'l  promised  to  do  all  I  wished.     lie  kept 

his  word,  la  you  know,     lie  went  to  K ,  and,  seeing  you, 

became  as  desirous  of  you  as  I  would  have  had  him.  Your 
brigliL,  girlish  beauty,  the  thought  that  you  were  his  daughter, 
did  the  rest.  He  brought  you  home  with  him,  and  grew  to 
love  you  dearly." 

"  Yys,"  Mollle  said,  very  sadly,  "  he  loves  mo  dearly.  I 
ehotdd  abhor  and  hate  the  murderer  of  my  father,  I  suppose, 
but  somehow  I  can  not.  Mr.  Walraven  has  been  very  good  to 
me.  And  now,  mother,  tell  me  why  you  came  on  the  day  of 
his  marriage,  and  strove  to  prevent  it?  You  did  not  really 
think  he  was  going  to  marry  nie?" 

"  I  never  thought  so,"  said  Miriam.  "  It  was  one  of  my 
mad  freaks — an  evil  wish  to  torment  him.  I  have  been  a 
nightmare  to  him  ever  since  my  first  appearance.  1  hardly 
know  whether  he  hates  or  fears  me  most  But  that  is  all  past 
and  gone.  I  will  never  torment  him  again  in  this  world. 
Give  me  more  wine,  Mollie — my  lips  are  parched." 

Miriam  moistened  her  dry  mouth  and  fell  back,  ghastlv  and 
breathing  hard.  Mollie  rose  from  the  bedside  with  a  heavy 
sigh. 

**  You  will  not  leave  mo?"  the  dying  woman  whispered,  in 
ularni,  ojjeuing  her  glascy  eyes. 

**  Only  for  a  moment,  mother.  V-:.  Tngelow  is  below.  1 
must  speak  with  him." 


THE    INSEEN    BRIDEOKOOM. 


199 


)(;of 
und 
0  of 
lady 
J  by 


'  I  came  to 
hor  Hguin. 


toll  you  1 
You  can 


Sh«  gliih'd  from  llm  .nom  uml  wcnl  ilowii-Btairs. 

Iliigli   fngelovv,  leaning,'  aj^'aiinl  tlio  dfior-pLat,  suioKiug  a 
wnlaiiinj^  t^igur,  and  watciiino-  tho  new  moon   risi-,  started  uu 
he  upiifart'd.     She  looked  ho  iiiilikc  h<!iself,  fo  like  a  !''])irit, 
that  lie  droiijiud  hin  (li^ar  and  Htured  aghast. 

*'  Is  she  dead?"  ho  asked. 

•*  She  is  dying,"  Mullie  vT'^wcred.     ' 
will  stay  to  the  last — 1  will  n  '    leave 
not,  neud  not  wait  longer  lioro,  Mr.  Inyclow." 

"  I  will  not  leave  yon,"  Mr.  jjigolosv  eaid,  rcBolutely,  "  if  I 
have  to  stay  a  week.  <iood  Leaven:!,  Mollie!  what  do  you 
tiiink  I  am,  to  leave  you  alone  and  anprotectcd  in  this  beasHy 
placoi"' 

"  I  will  bo  safe  enongli,"  Mollio  said  with  a  wan  smile  at 
hia  vehemence.  "  I  daro  say  tho  worst  crime  these  poor  peo- 
ple are  guilty  of  is  poverty.'* 

"  I  will  not  leave  you,"  Hugh  Ingelow  reiterated.  "  I  will 
go  upstairs  and  stay  in  tho  passage  all  night  il  you  will  find 
mo  a  chair.     I  may  bw  needed." 

"  You  are  so  kinul"  raising  her  eloquent  eyes;  "  but  it  is 
tco  much — " 

■■'  Not  one  whit  too  much.  Don't  let  us  waste  words  over 
a  trillo.     \A'.t  ua  go  up." 

Ife  ran  lightly  up  tho  rickety  staircase,  and  Mollie,  i)ausing 
a  moment  to  tap  at  Mrs.  81immens'  door,  and  ask  her  to 
share  her  last  vigil,  slowly  followed,  and  returned  to  the  soU 
enui  chamber  of  death. 

Mrs.  Slimmens,  worthy  tvonuin,  saw  to  Mr.  Ing'jlow's  com- 
fort. She  found  a  chair  and  a  little  table  and  a  pillow  for 
the  young  gentleman,  and  fixed  him  as  agreeably  as  possible 
on  the  huiding.  Tho  patient  artist  laid  tho  j)ilh)w  upon  the 
table  and  his  head  thereon,  and  slept  the  sleep  of  tho  just. 

Tho  long  night  wore  on;  Miriam  lay,  white  and  hiill,  thfl 
fluttering  breath  just  there  and  no  more.  After  midnight  she 
sunk  lower  and  lower  with  every  passing  hour.  As  day-dawn, 
pale  and  blank,  gleamed  dimly  across  the  night,  the  everlast- 
mg  day  dawned  for  her.  Sinful  and  suH'eriug,  she  was  at 
rest. 

Only  once  she  had  spoken.  Just  before  tlu!  last  great 
change  came,  the  dulled,  glazed  eyes  opened  and  fixed  them- 
selves on  Moliie. 

*'  My  darling — my  darling!"  she  whispered,  with  a  last 
look  of  unuttornble  love. 

Then  a  shiver  shook  her  from  head  to  foot,  the  death-rattle 
aouuded,  the  eyeballs  rolled  upward,  and  Miriam  was  dead. 


200 


THE    UNSEKX    BRIDEGROOM. 


liniaiena'' will   er}  broujrlit  llii^li   Inijelow  into  the 


llv'  (Tosseil  thf  r<H)ni  to  whoiv  AJolIio  knelt,  rigid  ami 


Mrs. 
room, 
colli. 

"  Mollie!"  he  vvhixpoi-cd,  ijcn'iing  tenderly  down ;  "  my  owii 
',ie:ir  MoUi.'!" 

Sho  lookeJ  lip  vaguely,  ami  saw  wlio  it  was. 

"  .She  was  my  inoihor,  Hugh,"  shu  Hii'id,  and  slipped  heavily 
backward  in  his  arms,  whiLs'  and  still. 

MoUie  did  not  faint.  She  lay  -t.  moment  in  a  violent  tremor 
and  faintless,  her  face  hidden  on  liis  iihouldcr;  then  she  lifted 
her  face,  white  as  the  dead— white  a.-^  snow. 

"She  was  my  mother,  Hugh,''  .she  repeated— "my  own 
mother." 

"  Your  mother,  Mollic?    And  T  thought  Carl  V.'airaven— " 

"Oh,  hush!  not  thai  name  here.  Ho  is  nothing  to  mo — 
less  than  nothing.     I  shall  never  see  him  again." 

"  Are  you  not  going  home?" 

"  1  have  no  iKimo,"  said  Mollie,  mournfully.  "  1  will  stay 
here  until  she  is  buried.  After  that — '  suilicient  unto  tho 
day  is  the  evil  ( hereof. '  You  will  help  me,  .Afr.  Ingelow?" 
looking  piteously  up.     "  1  don't  know  wiuit  to  do." 

"  I  will  help  you,"  Ivi  said,  tenderly,  "  my  poor  little  for- 
lorn darling:  but  only  on  one  condition — that  you  will  grant 
me  a  favor." 

"  What?"  looking  at  him  wondeiingly. 

"  That  you  will  go  and  lie  down,     j  ou  need  sleep — go  witJi 
Mr:%  Slimmens — eat  some  breakfast,  and  try  to  sleep  away 
tho  morning.     Don't  make  yourself  uneasy  about  anything— 
all  shall  be  arra?!geil  as  well  as  if  you  were  here,     ^'ou  will  do 
this  for  mo,  Mc/Ilie?" 

"Anything  for  you,  Ifu';;]!."  Mollie  reiilicd,  hardly  know- 
ing what  she  said;  "  i)iit  ]  u-jI  as  though  I  shi.idd  never  fc'loe]> 
again." 

Nevertlieless,  when  led  away  by  Mrs.  Siimmens,  and  a  cup 
of  warm  tea  aumiiii:itered,  and  safely  tueked  in  a  clean  i-ttaw 
''•d,  Millie's  heavy  eyelids  closed  in  a  deep,  liream!*  ss  sleei*. 
That  blessed  slumber  which  aeaks  the  eyisof  youth,  despite 
every  trouble,  wrapped  her  in  its  comforting  arms  for  many 
hours. 

It  was  high  noon  when  Mollie  awoke,  refreshed  in  body  and 
mind.  She  rose  at  once,  bathed  hei'  J'uee  and  brusnod  her 
curls,  and  (juitted  the  bedroom. 

Mrs.  Slimmens,  in  tho  little  kil.hen,  was  bustling  about 
^.ho  midday  meal. 

"  Your  dinuer  is  all  ready,  Mk^  Diaia/'  that  worthy  worn- 


THE    UNSEEN    BRIDEGPOOM. 


201 


an  siiid,  ''  and  tho  young  gentleman  told  me  not  on  any  ac- 
count to  allow  you  upstairs  again  until  you  VI  hiwl  it.  Hit  right 
down  here.  I've  got  some  nice  broiled  chicken  and  blanc- 
mange. " 

"  You've  never  gone  to  all  this  trouble  and  expense  for  me, 
I  hope?"  reinonstrateil  Moliie. 

'*  La,  no;  1  hadn't  the  money.  The  young  gentleman  had 
'em  ordered  here  from  the  restaurant  up-street.  Sit  right 
down  at  once." 

"  Dear,  kind,  considerate  Hugh  I"  ]\IoIlio  thought,  as  she 
took  her  i)lace  at  the  tidy  table.  "  Where  is  he  now,  Mrs, 
Slimmens?" 

"  Crone  for  his  own  dinner,  miss,  or  his  breakfast;  I  don't 
know  which,  seoin'  he's  had  nothing  all  day  but  a  cup  of  tea 
1  gave  him  this  morning.  He's  been  and  had  the  poor  creeter 
u{)stairs  laid  out  beautiful,  and  tho  room  fixed  uji,  and  tho 
I  luidertaker's  man's  been  here,  a-measurin'  her  for  her  coffin. 

She's  to  be  buried  to-morrow,  you  know." 

"  Yes,  I  know.     Poor  Miriam!  poor  mother!" 

Moliie  finished  her  meal  and  went  at  once  upstairs.  The 
chamber  of  death  looked  ghastly  enough,  draped  with  white 
sheets,  which  hid  the  smoky,  blotched  walls;  the  stove  had 
been  rcmovetl,  the  iloor  scrubbed,  the  window  washed  and 
ilung  open,  and  on  the  table  stood  two  large  and  beautiful 
bouquets  that  scented  the  little  room  with  sweetest  odors  of 
rose  and  mignonette. 

On  the  bod,  snowily  draped  in  a  white  shroud,  lay  Miriam, 
her  hands  folded  across  her  bosom,  a  linen  cloth  covering  tho 
dead  face,  liy  tho  bod  a  watciier  sat — a  decently  dressed 
woman,  who  rose  wi  a  sort  of  (juestioning  courtesy  upon 
the  entrance  of  the  young  lady. 

"  'i'his  is  M.rs.  Harmen,  Miss  Dane,"  said  Mrs.  Slimmens. 
"  She's  the  person  that  fixed  the  shroud  and  helped  tidy  up, 

She's  to  take  s])ell8  witli  you  and  me  watching  until  the 
funeral  com«»8  off." 

"  Very  well,"  said  ^lollic,  quietly.  "  Perhaps  she  had 

bettor  go  down  with  you  for  the  present.  1  will  remain  here 
for  the  rest  of  the  day." 

Tho  two  women  ((uittod  the  apartment,  and  Jfollic  was  loft 
alone.  She  removed  the  clotli  atid  gazed  sadly  on  the  rigid 
face. 

"Poor  soul!"  she  tiioiight.  bitterly,  "hers  was  a  hard, 
hard  life!  Oli,  f'arl  Walruveu!  If  yoi  c.julil  look  upon  your 
work,  surely  even  you  would  f«el  remorse." 


202 


THE    UNSEEN    BRIDEGROOM. 


The  entrance  of  Hugh  Ingelow  aroused  her.  She  turned  to 
him  her  pale,  s«veet  face  and  earnest  blue  eyea. 

"  1  want  to  thank  you  so  much,  Mr.  Ingclow,  and  1  can 
flot.     You  are  very,  very,  very  good." 

He  took  the  hand  she  held  out  and  kissed  it. 

"  One  word  from  you  would  repay  me  for  ton  times  as 
much.     May  1  share  your  watch  for  a  couple  of  hours?'* 

"  For  as  long  as  you  will.  1  want  to  tell  you  the  story  she 
told  me  on  her  death-bed.  You  have  been  so  good  to  me  —no 
brother  could  have  been  more— that  1  can  have  no  secrets 
from  you.  Besides,  you  must  understand  why  it  is  I  will  re- 
turn tio  Mr.  Walraven's  no  more." 

"  No  more?"  he  echoed  in  surprise. 

"  Never  again.  1  never  want  to  see  him  again  in  this 
world.  1  will  tell  you.  I  know  the  miserable  secret  is  as 
safe  with  you  as  in  my  own  breast." 

If  MolJie  had  loved  Hugh  Ingelow  less  dearly  and  devoted- 
ly than  she  did,  it  is  doubtful  if  she  would  have  revealed  the 
dark,  sad  history  Miriam  had  unfolded.  But  he  had  her 
heart,  and  must  have  every  secret  in  it;  so  she  sat  and  told 
him,  simply  and  sadly,  all  her  father's  and  mother's  wrongs. 
Mr.  Ingelow  listened  in  horrified  amaze. 

"  So  now,  you  see,  my  friend,"  she  concluded,  "  that  I  can 
never  cross  Carl  Walraven's  threshold  more." 

"  Of  course  not,"  cried  Mr.  Ingelow,  impetuously.  "  Good 
heavens!  what  a  villain  that  man  has  been!  They  ought  to 
hang,  draw,  and  quarter  him.  The  iuHiction  of  such  a  wife 
as  Madame  Blanche  has  been  is  but  righteous  retribution. 
You  should  expose  him,  Mollie." 

"  And  myself?  No,  no,  Mr.  Ingelow.  T  leave  him  in 
higher  hands.  The  mill  of  the  gods  grinds  slow,  but  it  grinds 
sure.  His  turn  will  come,  be  certain  of  that,  sooner  or  later. 
AH  I  will  do  is,  never  to  look  upon  his  guilty  face  again." 

"What  do  you  moan  to  do,  Mollie?  But  I  suppose  yo« 
have  no  plan  formed  yet." 

He  spoke  in  a  matter-of-fact  tone,  looking  at  her  askance, 
and  Mollie  sighed  wearily. 

"  Yes,  I  have  a  plan.  I  intend  to  leave  New  York  as  soon 
as  possible  after  to-morrow." 

"  Indeed.     May  I  ask — to  go  where?" 

•'  Mr.  Ingelow,  1  shall  join  my  old  company  again.  They 
will  bo  glad  to  have  nic,  I  know.  1  have  always  kept  up  a 
correspondence  witii  a  friend  I  had  in  the  troupe,  and  she  con- 
tinually, half  in  jest,  wholly  in  earnest,  urges  my  return. 
They  are  down  in  Kentucky  now.     I  will  write  to  the  man- 


THE    rXSEEN    BRIDEGROOM. 


203 


aajer.  He  will  forward  me  the  funds  to  join  them,  I  know. 
While  1  wait  for  his  answer  and  remittance,  good  Mrs.  Slim- 
mens  will  provide  mo  a  home." 

8he  ceased,  and  rieinj:  up,  walked  over  to  the  window. 

Now  was  Mr.  Ingelow'c  time,  surely,  if  he  cured  for  Mollis 
at  all;  but  Mr.  Ingelon-  spoke  never  a  word,  lie  sat  in  dead 
silence,  looking  at  the  little  figure  by  the  window,  knowing 
she  was  crying  quietly,  and  making  no  attempt  to  '.vlpts  away 
those  tears  by  one  tender  word. 

The  afternoon  wore  away.  As  the  twilight  fell,  Mr.  Jtage- 
low  took  his  departure,  and  MoUie  went  down  to  Mrs.  Slim- 
mens'  for  a  reviving  cup  of  tea. 

"  1  have  everything  arranged  for  the  funeral,  MoUie,"  Mr. 
Ingolow  said  at  parting.  "  I  will  be  here  by  nine  o'clock  to- 
morrow. Don't  giie  yourself  the  least  anxiety  hbout  the  mat- 
ter, Mollie." 

The  young  man  departed.  Mollie  had  her  toast,  and  re- 
turned to  the  death-room.  She  remained  there  until  past 
midnight  with  Mre.  Harmen;  then,  at  Mrs.  Slimmens' ear- 
nest request,  she  retired,  and  that  good  woman  took  her  place. 
At  ten  next  day,  the  humble  funeral  corthjc  started.  Mr. 
Ingelow  sat  in  the  carriage  with  Mollio,  but  they  spoke  very 
little  during  the  melancholy  drive. 

It  was  a  dismal  day,  with  ceaseless  rain,  and  sighing  wind, 
and  leaden  sky.  Mollie  cosvered  in  a  corner  of  the  carriage, 
her  pale  face  gleaming  like  a  star  above  her  black  wraps,  the 
bright  blue  eyes  unutterably  mournful. 

And  Hugh  Ingelow  watched  her  with  an  indescribable  ox- 
])rcssion  in  his  fathomle^  evea,  and  made  no  effort  to  console 
her. 

The  sods  rattled  on  the  cof!in-lid,  the  grave  was  filled  up, 
and  everybody  was  hurrying  away  out  of  the  rain. 

It  was  all  over,  like  some  dismal  dream,  and  Mollie,  shiver- 
ing under  her  shawl,  took  one  last  backward  look  at  the  grave 
of  her  mother,  and  was  harried  back  to  the  carriage  by  Hugh 
Ingelow. 

But  she  was  so  deathly  white  and  cold,  and  she  trembled 
with  such  nervous  shivering,  that  the  young  man  drew  her  to 
him  in  real  alarm. 

"  You  are  going  to  be  ill,  Mollie,"  ho  said.  "  You  are 
ill" 

"  Am  I?"  said  Mollie,  helplessly.  "  I  don't  know.  1 
hope  not.     I  want  to  go  awav  so  much." 

*'  8o  much?    To  leave  me)  Mollie?" 


204 


THE    UNSEEN    BRIDKGIlOO'jI. 


Mollie  lifted  her  heavy  eyes,  filled  with  unutterable  re- 
proach. 

"  You  don't  care,"  she  said.  "  It  is  notliing  to  you.  And 
it  should  be  nothing,"  suddenly  romenib\3rin<?  hersolf  and  sit- 
ting up.  "  Please  let  nie  go,  Mr.  Jngelow.  We  muat  part, 
and  it  la  better  so." 

Mr.  Ingelow  released  her  without  a  word.  Mollie  sat  up, 
drew  a  letter  from  her  pocket,  and  handed  it  to  him.  Uo 
saw  it  was  addressed  to  Carl  Walraven,  and  looked  at  her  in- 
quiringly. 

"  1  wish  you'to  read  it,"  she  said. 

It  was  unsealed,     lie  opened  it  at  once,  and  read: 

"Mr.  Walrvven, — Miriam  is  dead— Miriam  Dane — my 
mother.  She  deceived  you  from  first  to  hist.  1  am  no 
daughter  of  yours — for  which  I  humbly  thank  (Jod! — no 
daughter  of  Mary  Dane.  1  am  Miriam's  chiiil;  yoius  died  in 
the  work-house  in  it.-'  babyhood.  1  know  my  own  story — 1 
know  your  haTid  is  roil  with  my  father's  blooii.  I  don't  for- 
give you,  Mr.  Walraven,  but  iieither  do  I  accu'c  you.  1  sim- 
ply never  will  see  you  a'.^;!-in.  Mr.  Ingelow  will  hand  you  this. 
He  and  I  alone  know  the  story.  Maky  Dane." 

Mr.  Ingelow  looked  up. 

*'  Will  it  do?"  she  asked. 

*'  Yes.     Am  1  to  deliver  it?" 

"If  you  will  add  tha^  kindness  to  yonr  others.  1  don't 
th'nk  he  will  seek  me  out.     He  knows  bettor  than  thr.t. " 

Ilor  head  dropped  against  the  side  of  the  carriage.  The 
fane  usually  so  sparkling  looked  very,  very  pido,  and  worn, 
and  sad.  "J'he  young  artist  took  her  hand  and  iudd  it  j- 
ment  at  parting. 

"  You  intend  to  write  to  your  old  manager  to-morro(v, 
Mollie?" 

"Yes." 

"Don't  do  it.  Postpone  it  another  day.  I  am  coming 
here  to-morrow,  and  1  have  a  di.'Terent  plan  5»i  my  h^^ad  thai 
]  think  will  suit  better.  Wait  until  to-morrow,  Mollie,  and 
trust  me." 

Ills  eyes  llashrd  with  an  electric  fire  that  thrdied  the  girl 
through. 

What  did  he  mean?  But  Mr.  Ingelow  had  sprung  into  the 
carnage  again  and  was  gone. 


THK    UNSEEN    SiaiJ:»EQROOM. 


SiUu 


re- 


I 


up. 
Ho 


rii-1 


CITAI'TKU    XXVin. 

CRT  C  K  K  T  '  S     If  i:  S  1!  A  N  I) . 

Mu.  Carl  Wai.uavkn  sat  alono  in  his  private  room  in  a 
BroiidiviW  liote],  Hiaokiii<;f  an  after-breakfut-t  cigar,  aiul 
looking  lazily  at  tli:.'  stn-ani  of  pooplo  hurrying  up  and 
down.  U  was  the  morning  following  Miriam's  funeral,  of: 
which  he,  ot  course,  had  hoard  nothing,  lie  had  h.'fc  the  oily 
aftor  iiis  itiit.'rvicvv  witli  his  wife,  and  had  hut  just  returned. 
He  had  not  gone  home,  but  ho  had  notified  Mr.  Sardonyx  oi 
his  presence  in  town,  and  signili'-d  tluit  that  gentleman  was  to 
wait,  upon  him  imnuiliately. 

reniling  hia  arrival,  Mr.  Wal raven  sat  and  smoked,  and 
stared  at  the  pasiers-by,  and  wondered,  with  an  internal 
ehuckle,  how  Mme.  lilanchc  f.  It  by  this  time,  and  whether 
Mollio  was  lonely  or  not,  shut  up  in  the  deserted  mansion. 

"if  she'll  consent,  I'il  take  her  to  Europe,"  mused  Carl 
Walravon.  "  It  will  be  delightf.  '  to  go  over  the  old  places 
with  so  fresh  a  companion  as  my  sparkling  httle  Cricket. 
Jiut  I'm  not  sure  that  olio'll  go — yhe's  a  great  deal  too  fond 
of  young  Ingelow.  Well,  he's  a  line  fellow,  and  I've  no  ob' 
je(!tion." 

Mr.  Walraven's  reflections  were  interrupted  by  the  entranco 
of  Mr.  Sardonyx.  The  lawyer  bowed;  his  employor  nodtUni 
carelessly. 

"  How  do,  Sanlonyx?  Find  a  chair.  I've  got  back,  you 
see.     And  now,  liow's  things  progressing?" 

"  Favorably,  Mr.  Wahaven.     All  goes  well." 

"  And  madame  has  gone  packing,  I  hope?" 

"  Mrs.  W'alraven  left  fo/  ^'(Mikers  yesterday.  1  accom- 
panied her  and  saw  her  safely  to  her  new  liome. " 

"  How  does  she  take  it?" 

"  In  sullen  silence.  She  doesn't  deign  to  speak  to  me;  but 
with  her  cousin  it  is  (juito  another  nuitter.  lie  Inid  the  hardi- 
hood to  call  u[)on  her  in  my  presence,  and  you  .should  have 
seen  her.  By  dove,  sir!  she  ilew  out  at  him  like  a  tigress. 
Doctor  (ruy  departed  without  standing  cix  the  order  of  his  go- 
ing, and  hasn't  had  the  courage  to  try  it  on  since." 

Mr.  Wahaven  smiled  grimly. 

"  That's  as  it  should  bo.  Aj)art,  they  are  harmless;  to- 
gether, they  are  the  devil's  own.  And  now,  hcw's  the  moth- 
er, and  how's  Mollier" 

*'  Your  mother  is  us  well  u.s  usual;  1  believe.    As  to  Miss 


206 


THE    UNSEEN    BKIDEGltOOM. 


Dane,"  lifting  his  eyobrowa  in  surprise,  "  have  you  not 
heard?" 

"  Heurd  wliat?-* 

**  Why,  that  she  has  gone." 

"  Gonel"  cried  Carl  Wulraven,  "gone  again?  What  the 
foul  fiend  does  the  gi:!  mean?  Has  she  buen  carried  off  a 
third  time?" 

*'  Oh,  dear,  no!  nothing  of  that  sort.  Miss  J)ano  and  Mr. 
Ingelow  departeti  together  late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  same 
day  you  left,  and  neither  has  since  been  heard  of. " 

Mr.  Sardonyx  made  this  extraordinary  statement  with  a 
queer  smile  just  hovering  about  the  corners  of  his  legal 
mouth.     His  employer  looked  at  him  sternly. 

"See  here,  Sardonyx,"  he  said;  "none  of  your  insinua- 
tions. Miss  Dane  is  my  ward,  remember.  You  are  her  jilted 
lover,  1  remember.  Therefore,  1  can  make  allowances,  liut 
no  insinuations.  If  Miss  Dane  and  Mr.  Ingelow  left  together, 
you  Lnow  as  well  as  I  do  there  was  no  impro])riety  in  their 
doing  so. " 

*'  Did  I  say  there  was,  Mr.  Walraven?  1  mean  to  insinu- 
ate nothing.     I  barely  state  facta,  told  mo  by  your  servants." 

"  Did  Mollie  leave  no  word  where  she  was  going?" 

*'  There  was  no  need;  they  know.  This  was  the  way  of  it: 
a  ragged  urchin  came  for  her  in  hot  haste,  told  her  Miriam 
was  dying,  and  desired  her  presence  at  once,  to  reveal  some 
secret  of  vital  importance.  Miss  Dane  dei)arted  at  onoe. 
Mr.  Ingelow  chanced  to  be  at  the  house,  and  he  acconi))anied 
her.     Neither  of  them  has  returned." 

The  face  of  Carl  Walraven  turned  slowly  to  a  dead,  sickly 
white  as  he  heard  the  lawyer'?  words,  lie  rose  slowly  and 
walked  to  one  of  the  opposite  windows,  keeping  his  back 
turned  to  Sardonyx. 

'*  Has  there  been  no  letter,  no  message  of  any  sort  since?" 
he  inquired,  huskily,  after  a  pause. 

*'  None.  No  one  in  your  household  knows  even  where  this 
Miriam  resides.  As  for  Mr.  Ingelow,  1  called  twice  at  the 
studio  since,  but  each  time  to  find  it  locked. " 

There  was  a  tap  at  the  door. 

*'  Come  in,"  said  the  lawyer. 

And  enter  a  waiter,  with  a  card  for  Mr.  Walraven.  That 
gentleman  took  it  with  a  start. 

"  Speak  of  the —  Hugh  Ingelow!"  he  mmttered.  "  Sar- 
donyx, I  wish  to  see  Ingelow  in  private.  I'll  drop  into  your 
office  in  the  course  of  the  day." 


THE    UNSEEN-    BRIDEGROOM. 


307 


>?" 


That 


Mr.  Sardonyx  bowed  and  took  his  hat  and  his  departure  at 
oii(;u. 

Mr.  Ingelow  and  he  crossed  oiioh  otlior  on  the  threshold. 

The  young  artist  entered,  ills  liandsomo  face  set,  and  grave^ 
jiiiil  stern. 

Mr.  Walraven  saw  that  cold,  fixed  face  with  a  sinicing 
liPiirt. 

"  (rood-morning,  Ingelow,"  ho  said,  trying  to  nod  and 
s;)eak  indilTereritly.  "  Take  a  seat  and  tell  me  the  ne\?8. 
I've  been  out  of  town,  you  know." 

"  1  know,"  Mr.  Ingelow  said,  availing  himself  of  the 
profTored  chair  only  to  lean  lightly  against  it.  "  Thanks. 
No,  I  prefer  to  stand.  My  business  will  detain  you  but  a 
few  minutes.     1  come  from  Miss  Dane." 

lie  spoke  with  cold  sternn  ss.  lie  could  not  forget  the 
horrible  fact  that  the  man  before  him  was  a  profligate  and  a 
murderer. 

"Ahl"  Carl  Walraven  said,  with  ashen  lips.  "She  is 
well,  I  trust?" 

"  She  is  we...     She  desired  me  to  give  you  this." 

He  hold  out  the  note.  The  hands  of  the  millionaire  shook 
as  ho  tried  to  open  it. 

"  Where  is  she?"  ho  asked. 

"  She  is  with  friends.     Kead  that  note;  it  exjilains  all.** 

"  Have  you  read  it?"  Carl  Walraven  asked  with  sudden, 
fierce  suspicion. 

"I  have,"  answered  Mr.  Ingelow,  calmly;  "by  Miss 
Dane's  express  desire." 

Mr.  Walraven  opened  the  note  and  read  it  slowly  to  the 
end.  llis  face  changed  from  athen  gray  to  the  livid  hue  of 
ilcatli.  lie  lifted  his  eyes  to  the  face  of  the  young  artist,  and 
th'jv  iriowed  like  the  burning  eyes  of  a  hunted  beast. 

'MVeli?" 

It  was  all  he  said,  and  he  sent  the  word  hissing  hot  and 
iieroo  from  between  his  sot  tooth. 

"  That  is  all  my  errand  hero,  Mr.  Walraven,"  the  young 
man  said,  his  cool  brown  eyes  looking  the  discovered  mur- 
derer through.  "  I  know  all,  and  I  believe  all.  You  have 
been  duped  from  first  to  last.  Miss  Dane  is  no  child  of  yours, 
thank  God!" 

He  raised  his  hand  as  he  uttered  the  solemn  thanksgiving, 
with  a  go.iture  that  thrilled  the  guilty  man  through. 

"  Your  secret  is  safe  with  her  and  with  me,"  pursued 
Hugh  Ingelow,  after  a  pauae.     "  You  may  live  to  the  end  of 


208 


THE    UNSEEN    1)1}  IDEO ROOM, 


your  ii*.'  iinrmlosfod  of  man,  for  us,  but  yoii  mii.st  novcr  look 
upon  M  liin'  Da  no'.-  fucL'  moiv. " 

Ciii'l  \\'ii!iMvou  su'iiv  ilowu  into  a  (;h;iir  iuul  oorercil  his  face, 
with  a  ^f'tir).     llii:;h  Iiigi.'k)w  liirned  to  go. 

"St:'r,>:"  Mr,  Wiunivon  sui<l,  hoHm:!".-.  "  Whiit  h  to  bo- 
eomo  o:'  ir  r?     Avo  you  goirij^  to  juu'-ry  h  -r,  IFti^^h  liigolow?'-' 

"1  iloolino  fMisv.-ering  tluit  (]U(\stion,  ivir.  AVairavou/'  tho 
artist  said,  htin'i'ut!!','.  "  -Miss  Dano  will  bo  cared  for-  be- 
Jieve  th;it.     I  vvii^h  you  good-mornillL^  " 

Mr.  hvjjeloH'  was  very  pale  whon  iio  omv^rgcd  into  thronged 
Broadway,  hut  tlioi'o  was  no  indecision  in  liis  niovemnntH. 
Ho  hailed  a  hack  piv>sing,  sj)ning  in,  and  was  driven  rapidly 
to  tho  east  side — to  I  iio  humble  abode  of  Mrs.  .Slinimens. 

Mollin  came  forth  to  m(;!:>i.  him,  worn  and  sad,  and  witii 
traces  of  tear:^,  but  with  a  briiiht.  glsid  light  in  iicr  starry  (708 
at  sight  of  him — the  light  of  sweet  yoiuig  love. 

"  1  have  seen  idm,  Moilie,"  ho  said.  '"  1  gave  him  your 
letter.  Vnu  would  hardly  h-wo  known  him,  he  looked  so  ut- 
terly aghast  and  confounded,  lie  Vt'ill  not  try  to  see  you,  I 
am  Gortiiin.  And  now,  my  dear  girl,  for  that  other  and  bet- 
ter plan  that  1  sjiuko  of  la.st  cveinng.  r>ut  first  you  must  take 
a  drive  with  me — a  somewhat  lengthy  drive.'' 

She  looked  at  him  wonderinLdy,  but  in  no  fear. 

"  A  drive,"  bhe  repeated.     '""Where?" 

"  Only  to  Harlem — not  quite  out  of  the  world,"  with  a 
smile.  "  Tho  carriage  is  waiting.  Go  ])ut  on  your  bonnet, 
and  come." 

"  It  is  very  odd,"  thought  Moilie. 

But  she  obeyed  implicitly,  and  in  Ave  minutes  they  were 
rattling  along  over  tho  stony  streets. 

"  Won't  you  tell  n;e  now?"  tlio  young  lady  asked. 

"  Kot  yot.  Let  the  mvoLory  develop  itself  as  it  does  in  a 
noveL     Trust  to  mo,  and  pn;pare  for  a  great  shock." 

She  gHzed  at  him,  utterly  uuaUlo  to  com})reheud.  He  was 
smiling,  but  he  v.'hs  strangely  nale. 

"  It  is  no  kv.it,  sui'oly,"  ^Moilie  taid.  "  It  is  something  seri- 
ous.    \ou  look  as  though  it  wtne." 

"ll'i^en  knows  I  never  v/as  more  serious  in  my  life. 
Don't  a-k  any  more  (jucstions  now,  rvlollio;  but  if  I  have  ever 
done  yo:;  tlu^  sligld/.'st  service,  try  to  b'jar  it  in  mind.  You 
will  need  to  reniefiiber  it  t-hv)rtly,  and  I  will  stand  sorely  in 
want  of  all  your  m.ignaniinily. ''' 

lie  sai  i  no  more,  and  MoliJn  uit  in  a  dazed  state,  but  .still 
happy,  ao  she  ever  must  bo  liy  his  ti.ii .  And  on,  and  on, 
and  on  they  rattled,  and  the  (lity  was  left  behind,  and  th«y 


THE    UNSKEN    HUIDKfJriOOU. 


209 


wo>'o  diivinj^  throu.i>h  the  rjuict  of  ilarlein,.  grocu  and  pretty 
in  it.-i  suijiiuury  fros-liiu; •;.■!. 

The  driver, oboyinjj  Bcmo  directions  of  Mr.  Ingelow,  turned 
'i|)  ii  .shady  greiMi  htne  muling  in  a  high  gate-WJiy. 

They  oil  Lured  the  guLe-Wiiy  and  ilrov -j  up  through  a  long 
.'.venue  of  waving  trees  to  u  scpuire,  fair  mansion  of  gleaming 
white — .1  lavgo  wooden  structure  with  intensely  green  blinds, 
all  closely  shut. 

MoUie  sat  and  looked  in  speechless  expectation.  Mr.  inge< 
low,  volunteering  no  explanation,  a3;iistoil  her  out,  desired 
cabby  to  wait,  ojje.ned  the  door  with  a  latch-key,  and  ushered 
Mollio  in. 

MMie  entrance-hall  wa^j  very  much  like  any  other  entrance- 
hall;  so,  likewise,  Vvas  the  broad  stair-way;  so,  aloo,  the  upper 
landing. 

Jt  was  only  when  Mr.  Ingelow,  pausing  before  ono  of  the 
doors  in  the  second  hall,  f<[;oke,  that  Mollic  received  her  lirst 
shock. 

"  You  will  e»)ter  hero,  Mollie,  and  wait.  Prepare  yourself 
for  a  g.eat  surprise — a  terrible  surprise,  perhaps." 

lie  bowed  and  left  her,  patising  into  another  room,  and 
closing  the  door. 

All  in  an  agitated  lluttei-,  Mollio  opened  her  door  and  en- 
tered. But  on  the  thrishoM  she  paused,  with  a  shrill  cry  of 
wonder,  tf^rror,  and  doubt;  for  tlie  padded  walls  and  lloor, 
the  blind  windi)ws,  th(!  lighted  lamp,  the  bed,  the  furniture, 
were  all  recognized  in  a  moment. 

It  was  the  room  where  she  had  been  first  imprisoned — where 
she  had  consented  to  miirry  the  lua.skeil  man. 

A  fjuiet  figure  rose  from  a  chair  under  the  lamp  and  faced 
iier  Willi  a  courtesy.  It  was  the  girl  who  had  lured  her  from 
her  homo — 8arah  (J rant. 

"  Come  in,  miss,"  said  this  young  person,  as  though  they 
had  just  parted  an  hour  ago.  "  Master  told  me  to  expect 
you.  Sit  tlown;  ho'II  bo  here  in  a  minute.  You  look  fit  to 
drop." 

iShe  felt  "  lit  to  dro]), "  Slv'  sunk  into  the  prolTered  sfnt, 
trembling  through  evt  ry  li-ub  ui  her  body,  overwhelmed  with 
a  stunning  consciousness  that  the  supreme  moment  of  her  iifo 
had  come. 

iSarah  (Irant  left  the  room,  and  Mollio  was  alone.  Hep 
eyes  turned  to  the  door,  and  llxed  tli 'juselves  there  as  if  fas- 
cinated, ller  head  was  awhirl— her  mind  a  blank.  Sorae- 
tbing  tremendous  was  about  to  liappen — whyfc,  she  could  not 
thmk. 


210 


THE    UNSEEN    BRIDEGROOM, 


The  door  opened  slowly — the  man  in  the  hlack  mask  strode 
in  and  stood,  silent  and  awful,  before  li(3r. 

Without  a  word  or  ory,  but  white  aa  death,  she  rose  up  and 
confrontetl  him  with  wild,  dilated  eyes. 

'*  You  know  me,  Mollie,"  the  masked  man  said,  addressing 
her,  as  before,  in  French — "  I  am  your  husband." 

"  Yes,"  Mollie  answered,  her  white  lips  scarce  able  to  form 
the  words.  "  For  God's  sake,  take  olT  that  mask  and  show 
me  your  face!" 

Without  a  word,  he  unclasped  the  cloak  and  let  it  slip  on 
the  floor;  he  removed  the  flowing  hair  and  beard,  and  with  it 
the  mask.  And  uttering  a  low,  wailing  cry,  Mollie  staggered 
back — for  there  before  her,  pale  as  herself,  stood  the  man  she 
loved — Hugh  Ingelow! 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

WHICH   WINDS    UP  THE   BUSINESS. 

He  stood  before  her,  pale  and  stern,  his  eyes  fixed  upon  her, 
AS  a  culprit  before  his  judge  waiting  sentence  of  death. 

But  Mollie  never  looked.  After  that  one  brief,  irrepressible 
cry,  she  had  fallen  back,  her  face  bowed  and  hidden  in  her 
hands. 

"  You  shrink  from  me,  Mollie,"  Hugh  Ingelow  said;  "  you 
will  not  even  look  at  me.  I  knew  it  would  be  so.  I  know  I 
deserve  it;  but  if  I  were  never  to  see  you  again,  I  must  tell 
you  the  truth  all  the  same.  Yes,  Mollie,  recoil  from  me,  hate 
me,  spurn  me,  for  the  base,  unmanly  part  I  have  acted.  It 
is  not  Doctor  Oleander  who  is  the  dastard,  the  villain,  the  ab- 
ductor of  weak  women — it  is  I!" 

She  did  not  speak,  she  did  not  move,  she  made  no  sign  that 
she  even  heard  him. 

"  It  will  avail  me  little,  I  know,"  he  continued,  "  to  tell 
you  I  have  repented  the  dastardly  deed  in  bitterness  of  spirit 
since.  It  will  avail  nothing  to  tell  you  how  I  have  hated  my- 
self for  that  cruel  and  cowardly  act  that  made  me  your  hus- 
band. I  think  you  maddened  me,  Mollie,  with  your  heartless, 
your  insulting  rejection,  and  I  did  love  you  passionately.  I 
swore,  in  my  heart  of  hearts,  I  would  bo  avenged,  and,  Mollie, 
you  know  how  I  kept  my  vow." 

Still  no  replj',  still  no  movement  on  Mollio's  part.  She 
stood  half  bowed,  her  head  averted,  her  face  covered  by  her 
hands. 

"  It  drove  me  into  a  sort  of  frenzy,  the  thought  of  your  be- 


THK    UNSKEN    HKIDEGUOOM. 


in 


coming  Sir  Rogor  Trujonnu's  wife.  If  he  had  been  a  young 
iNun,  uiiil  ynti  had  lovod  him,  I  would  Imvo  bowod  my  huaii, 
as  boforo  u  sluine,  Hud  gone  my  way  and  triod  to  forgivo  you 
uiul  wish  you  ha])j)incss.  liut  I  know  bettor.  I  know  you 
wero  soiling  yoursolf  for  an  old  man's  rank,  for  an  old  num's 
golil,  and  I  tried  to  dospiso  and  hato  you.  I  tried  to  think 
that  no  base  act  I  could  commit  would  be  baaor  than  the  mar- 
riage you  wore  ready  to  make.  A  plan — mad,  impracticable 
iw  my  own  mad  love,  ihidhcd  acroaa  my  brain,  and,  like  many 
other  things  impossible  in  theory,  I  did  iti  It  seemed  an  im- 
possiblity  to  tear  you  from  the  very  altar,  and  make  you  my 
wife,  all  unknown,  but  I  did  it.  1  had  this  house  here,  un- 
inhabited, furnished.  I  had  a  friend  rcaily  to  help  me  to  the 
death.  I  disguised  myself  like  a  hero  of  romance,  I  decoyed 
you  here,  forced  you  to  consent,  I  married  you  I" 

Still  mute,  still  dropping,  still  averted,  still  motionless. 
There  was  a  tremor  in  Hugh  Ingelow's  steady  voice  when  ho 
went  on. 

"  Ilow  hard  it  was  for  me,  what  a  cruel,  cold-blooded  mon- 
itor I  felt  myself,  how  my  very  heart  of  hearts  was  touched  by 
your  sulTering  here,  I  can  not  tell.  IJesidos,  it  would  seem 
like  mockery,  since  all  my  compassion  did  not  make  me  spare 
you.  ]»ut  from  the  moment  you  set  foot  here  1  considered  it 
too  late;  and  then,  besides,  Mollio,  I  was  mad  with  love  of 
you.  I  could  not  let  you  go.  You  yielded — you  consented 
to  barter  yourself  for  freedom,  as  once  before  you  consented 
for  gold.  I  brought  the  Itevorend  liaymond  Kashleigh  here 
— he  married  mo  under  my  second  name  of  Ernest — as  you 
know. " 

He  paused  again.     Still  no  sign,  and  then  ho  went  on: 

"1  let  you  go.  1  did  not  dare  reveal  myself,  but  I  kept 
my  j)romiso.  Ilate  mo,  Mollio,  as  you  will;  despise  me,  as 
you  must — but  try  and  think  how  dearly  I  love  you.  I  would 
lay  down  my  life  for  you,  my  darling  Mollie.  That  would  be 
an  easy  sacrifice;  it  remains  for  mo  to  make  a  greater  one. 
A  divorce  shall  set  you  free.  J  myself  will  obtain  that  di- 
vorce, ^o  one  knows  of  our  marriage — no  one  ever  shall 
know.  I  will  leave  you  free — free  as  the  wind  that  blows — to 
go  forth  and  make  happy  a  more  honorable  and  deserving 
man.  Only,  Mollie,  no  man  ever  will  love  you  as  I  love  you!" 
Ills  voice  failed.  lit  turned  abruptly  away,  and  stood  as  it 
waiting  for  her  to  speak.     But  she  never  uttered  a  word. 

He  took  her  silence  for  a  token  of  her  utter  scorn  and  hate. 

"  Farewell  then,  Mollie,"  he  said.  "  1  go,  and  1  will  never 
molest  you  more.     The  carriage  that  brought  you  here  will 


THE    UNSEEN    iminEOROOW. 


fetch  you  liomo  agsiin.  But  before  wo  piirt  forever,  lot  mo  suy 
this — if  you  ever  want  i\  frioml,  >ind  uiiii  so  far  forgive  nio  the 
wrong  I  huvo  done  you  ha  to  cull  upon  mo  for  help,  thee, 
Mollio,  I  will  try  to  repair  my  iinpiinlouiiI)Io  ollenso." 

IIo  walked  to  the  door,  ho  turned  the  handle,  ho  gave  ono 
last,  despairing  look — and  what  did  ho  seo?  A  little,  white 
hand  extended  imploringly,  and  a  pathetic  little  voice,  tremu- 
lously speaking: 

"  iliigh,  don't  go!*' 

Ho  stopped,  turning  ghastlv  white. 

"Mollie!     For  Cod's  sake— " 

"  Don't — don't  go,  Mr.  Ingolow!  Don't  go,  for  1  forgive 
you — I  love  you!" 

Hugh  Ingelow  gavo  one  amazdl  cry — it  waa  more  like  a 
dhout — and  in  the  next  ecstatic  moment  Miss  Dane  waa  iu  his 
jirms,  held  there  as  if  he  never  would  lot  her  go. 

"  Please  don't!"  Mollio  sai.l,  pettishly.  "  What  do  you 
duppase  a  i)erson'3  ribs  are  m;tde  of,  to  stand  such  bear's  hugs 
eis  that?  l>osides,  1  didn't  tell  you  to.  1  oidy  asled  you  not 
to  mind  the  divorce — to-day!" 

"  Mollio,  Mollio!  for  Heaven's  sake,  don't  fcrille  with  me!  1 
am  nearly  bosido  myself — what  with  remorse,  despair,  and 
now  hope.  Tell  me — can  you  ever  forgive  me?  Jiut  1  am 
mad  to  ask  it,  to  hope  for  it.  1  know  what  you  said  to  Doc- 
tor Oleander." 

"  Do  you?"  said  Mollio;  "  but  then  you're  not  Doctor 
Oleander." 

"  Mollio!" 

"  But  still,"  said  Mollie,  solemnly,  and  disengaging  her- 
aelf,  "  yihfiii  1  have  time  to  think  about  it,  I  am  sure  1  shall 
hate  vou  like  poison.  I  do  now,  but  1  hate  divorces  more. 
Oh,  Mr.  Ingelow!  how  could  you  behave  so  disgracefully?" 

And  then  all  at  once  and  without  the  slightest  premonitory 
warning,  tho  young  lady  broke  out  crying  hysterically,  and  t 
do  it  tho  better  laid  her  face  on  Mr.  Ingolow's  shoulder.  And 
that  bold  buccaneer  of  modern  society  gathered  the  little  girl 
close  to  his  heart,  like  tho  presumptuous  ouout.drel  he  was, 
and  let  her  cry  her  till;  and  tho  face  he  bent  over  her  waa 
glorified  and  ecstatic. 

"  Stop  crying,  Mollie,"  he  said  at  last,  putting  back  the 
yellow  curls,  and  peeping  at  the  flushed,  wet,  pretty  face. 
"  Stop  crying,  my  dear  little  wife,  and  look  up  and  say, 
'  Hugh,  1  forgive  you. '  " 

"Never!"  said  Mollie.  "  i'ou  cruel,  tyrannical  wretch,  1 
hate  you!" 


THE    UNSKEN    imiDEr.  ROOM. 


213 


forgive 


Doctor 


Ami  sny'iv'  it,  Mollio  put  lior  ami';  ruiivl  hi ;  neck,  and 
iini^fli  '1  ,111.1  vvh'd  wildly  in  tho  wuno  bnaili. 

"  TIk!  iiystiMJt's  will  lio  you  {^ooj,  my  (K'i»r,"  hiiI  1  Mr.  Inye- 
h)w\  "  (iiily  don't  j\ui'p  tlicin  ;!j)  loo  l(lIl;,^  iirid  nildi-n  your 
pro'.i'-  i  •  l.iii  ■  (jyoH,  und  Kwcll  y(jur  iUnr  litMu  n.  ■•-•.  MoUic,  ia 
u  pos.siblo  yoi;  Invo  niu  a  little,  iiftcr  all?" 

Mollio  liftwl  lior  face  again,  and  looked  at  nun  with  solemn, 
shininpf  «'V('8. 

"Oil,  iliighl  am  1  really  and  truly — youi*  very  wife?" 

"  My  very  own — my  diifling  Mollie — ii'.y  prccioua  littlo 
bride,  as  fast  aa  Church  and  .State  and  Mr.  liu-.hli'igh  can 
make  you. " 

"  Oh,  Iluyh,  it  was  a  shame!" 

"  I  know  it,  MoUio — a  dreadful  shamel  But  you'll  bo  u 
Christian,  won't  you,  and  tiy  to  forgive  nr •;" 

"  I'll  try,  but  I'm  afraid  it  ia  impoosiblc  And  all  (he  lime 
I  thought  it  was  Doctor  Oleander.  Oh,  II  ugh,  you've  no  idea 
how  nuHorable  I  was." 

There  was  a  tnysterious  twinkle  in  Ilugh's  eyes. 

"  Almost  aa  miserable  as  at  itrcsent,  Mollie?" 

"  \v.ti;  moro  so,  if  suiih  ii  thing  bif  possibk'.  It's  shocking 
to  carry  olT  a  girl  like  (hal,  iinil  niavry  her  ag;»inyt  her  will. 
Nobody  in  this  world,  but  an  augel  like  my.iclf,  would  ever 
foririvc  you." 

'*  Which  is  cfjuivalent  to  saying  you  do  forgive  xtv\  Tliou- 
tiiiid  thunkii,  Mrs.  Ingilav.  Tell  me,  would  you  ever  havo 
forgiven  (Juy  Oleander?" 

'*  You  know  I  wouldn't,"  Mollie  answered,  blushing  bouu- 
tifully  at  her  now  name;  "  but,  then,  you're  diirerent." 

"How,  Mollie?" 

"  Well— well,  you  see  I  hate  Doctor  Oleander,  and  1  don't 
hate  you." 

"  You  like  m©  a  little,  Mollie,  don't  you?  Ah,  my  darling, 
'ell  me  so.     You  know  you  nover  havo  yet." 

And  thc«  Mollie  put  her  two  arms  round  his  neck,  and  held 
lip  her  Ic  » Jy,  blushing  face. 

"  Dect,  dear  Hugh!     I  love  you  with  all  my  heart!    And 

tho  ha'yjiest  day  of  Mollie's  life  is  tho  day  she  finds  you  are 

Mollie  ¥  husband!" 

*****  *  * 


fhcy  ucre  back  in  the  carriage,  driving  through  tho  golden 
ta'iii  of  tho  sunny  afternoon  slowly  back  to  tho  city.  8ido  by 
side,  as  happy  lovers  sit,  they  sat  and  talked,  with — oh,  such 
infinitely  blissful  faces! 

'*  And  now,"  said  Mollie,  "  what  are  wo  going  to  do  about 


214 


THE    UNSEEN    BRIDEGROOif. 


it?  It  will  never  answer  to  reveal  this  horrid  little  romance 
of  ours  to  all  the  world." 

"  Nor  shall  I.  The  world  has  no  right  to  our  secrets,  and 
the  Reverend  Itaymond  Rashlcigh  will  go  to  his  grave  with 
his  little  mystery  unsolved.  But  we  will  bu  married  again, 
openly  and  before  the  world,  and  you,  Mrs.  Ingelow,  will  l)o 
under  double  obligation,  because  you  will  have  promised  to 
love,  honor  and  obey  twice." 

"  And  we'll  go  and  live  out  at  Harlem,  in  the  dear,  roman- 
tic old  house?"  Mollie  said,  with  sparkling  eyes. 

"  Yes,  if  you  wish  it.  1  will  have  it  repaired  and  refur- 
nished immediately,  and,  while  the  workmen  are  about  it,  we 
will  be  enjoying  our  wedding-tour.  For  we  must  be  married 
at  once,  Mollie,"  with  a  comical  look. 

Mollie  blushed  and  fidgeted,  and  laughed  a  little  nervous 
laugh. 

"  This  day  fortnight  will  give  you  ample  time  for  all  the 
wedding  garniture,"  said  the  young  man.  "  You  hear,  Mol- 
lie— a  fortnight." 

Mollie  sighed  resignedly. 

"  Of  course,  you  will  play  the  tyrant,  as  usual,  and  carry 
me  off  willy-nilly,  if  I  don't  consent.  You  must  have  every- 
thing your  own  way,  I  suppose.  And  now — I'm  dying  to 
know — tell  me,  who  is  Sarah  Grant?" 

"  An  eminently  respectable  young  woman,  and  the  wife  of 
my  foster-brother.  She  and  her  husband  would  do  anything 
under  the  sun  for  me.  The  husband  was  the  coachman  who 
drove  you  when  you  were  abducted — who  witnessed  the  mar- 
riage, and  who  is  driving  us  now.  Sarah's  a  trumpi  Didr/fc 
she  outwit  Oleander  nicely?" 

"  How?  Oh,  Hugh,"  clasping  her  hands,  "  I  see  it  all — 
the  resemblance  just  puzzled  me  so.  Sarah  tJrant  was  Susan 
fcjharpo. " 

"  Of  course,  she  was,  and  a  capital  nurse  she  made.  Sarah's 
worth  her  weight  in  gold,  and  you  will  tell  her  so  the  next 
time  you  see  her.  And  now,  here  we  are  at  Mrs.  Watson's, 
and  so  good-bye  for  an  hour  or  two,  my  little  wife." 

And  Mollie  went  in,  her  face  radiant,  and  all  the  world 
changed  since  she  had  left. 

With  the  "  witching  hour  of  candle-light  "  came  Mr.  Inge- 
low  again,  to  spend  the  evening  with  his  lady-love.  He  looked 
a  little  serious,  as  Mollie  saw. 

"  What  is  it,  Hugh?"  she  asked,  in  alarm. 

"  Nothing  much.  1  was  thinking  of  Walraven.  1  saw  him 
this  afternoon. " 


THE    UNSEEN    BRIDEGROOM. 


215 


"  Well?"  breatlilessly. 
-"He  is  olT  a^'ain.  Back  to  Europe,  in  the  steamer  to-mor 
row,  never  to  nftiirn,  he  says.  I  never  saw  a  man  more  cast 
down.  So  old  Madumo  Walraven  will  be  monarch  of  all  she 
surveys  once  more,  and  the  Fifth  Avenue  mansion  will  bo  the 
abode  of  darkness  and  desolation  agai^i.  Miss  Blanche  is  set- 
tled at  Yonkers  for  good. " 

"  Did  you  tell  him—" 

"  About  our  forthcoming  nuptials?    Oh,  yesi    He  looked 

i'ather  surprised,  and  asked  about  the  Mysterious  Unknown 

in  the  mask.     But  I  pooh-poohed  that  matter — told  him  i 

didn't  think  the  mysterious  husband  v/ould  ever  trouble  us, 

and  1  don't  think  he  will.     By  the  bye,  8ir  Roger  Trajenna 

goes  to-morrow,  too,  so  my  little  girl  is  deserted  by  all,  and 

must  cling  the  closer  to  me." 

^f  f  *  *  *  ii  * 

While  Carl  Walraven  and  Sir  Roger  Trajenna  sailed  over 
the  wide  sea — while  Blanche  Walraven  ground  her  teeth  in  im- 
potent rage  up  at  Yonkers — while  Dr.  (iuy  Orleander  pur- 
sued his  business  in  New  York,  and  scowled  darkly  at  the  fail- 
ure of  his  plans — the  daily  papers  burst  out,  one  morning, 
with  the  jubilant  news  that  Hugh  Ernest  Ingelow,  Esq.,  ami 
Miss  Mollie  Dane  were  one  llesh.  The  lleverend  Kaymoud 
liashleigh  performed  the  ceremony,  and  the  wedding  was  a 
very  <|uiet  atTair,  and  the  happy  ])air  started  otl'  at  once  to 
spend  the  honey-moon  in  a  tri])  to  the  C'anauus. 

So  we  leave  Cricket — all  her  girlish  troubles,  and  flirtations, 
•nd  wildness  over,  to  settle  down  into  the  dearest,  brightest, 
loveliest  little  wife  in  wide  America.  Happy  as  the  days  are 
long,  and  bright  as  the  sun  that  shines,  has  Cricket  been  since 
Hugh  Ingelow  has  been  her  husband. 


THE  END. 


THE  DUG  DE  L'OMELETTE. 


And  Ftepped  at  once  into  a  coolor  clime. — Coirper. 

Keats  fell  by  a  critic-u»m.  "\Mio  -vvas  it  died  of  "  Tlir  AndrO' 
mnrJid?"*  Ignoble  souls!  De  L'thnelette  perished  of  an 
ortolan.     L'hi-sioire  en  e^t  hrivc.    Assist  me,  Hpirit  of  Ajjicins! 

A  {golden  cage  bore  the  little  winged  wanderer,  enamored, 
melting,  indolent,  to  the  Chan. -.-fie  lyAnfiii,  from  its  home  in 
far  Peru.  From  its  queenly  possessor  La  liellissima,  to  the 
Due  De  L"Oraek-tte,  six  peers  of  the  empire  conveyed  the 
happy  bird. 

Tliat  night  the  Due  was  to  sup  alone.  In  t]jo  privaey  of 
his  bureau  lie  reclined  Linguidly  on  that  oi toman  for  which 
he  saerificed  Lis  loyalty  in  outbidding  his  king — a  notorious 
ottoman  of  CafK-t. 

Ho  buries  his  face  in  the  pillow.  The  clock  strikes!  Un- 
able to  restrain  his  feelings,  his  Grace  swallows  an  olive.  At 
this  moment  the  door  gently  opens  to  tlie  sound  of  soft  mu- 
sic, and  lo !  the  most  delicate  of  binls  is  before  the  most  en- 
amored of  men  !     But  what  inexpressible  dismay  now  over- 


shadows the  countenance  of  the  Due 


Jforrcur 


■■hi<;ii! 


— Jiapthfr  .'—roi.<'^'t .'  oh,  hon  iJieu!  crt  oif^cn)!  modcxtc.  (pie 
tu  OS  de^ltahilU-  d*'  ses  plnmt%  et  que  ffi  as  scrri  .v/ui.s  2><'p«"'>''  " 
It  is  superfluous  to  say  more  : — the  Due  expired  in  a  paroxysn* 
of  disgust 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  ha !  "  haid  his  Grace  on  the  third  day  after  his 
decease. 

"He!  he!  be!"  rr plied  the  Devil  faintly,  drawing  him- 
self up  with  an  air  of  i>  tuf'^iir. 

"  Why,  surely  you  are  not  serious,"  retorted  Do  L'Onu^lctte. 

*  Montflounr.  The  author  of  the  Punian.w  lu'fonnr  iimknshim  speak 
iu  Iladfis  :  ''L'hommf  dni^t  f/»i  rowlrdil  saroir  rr  i/oiif  Jfi  nuts  iiiort, 
tpifl  uc  dnnnmk  fMutTlfiif  tl>^  jifire  ou  tie  ]>o(/.ayreau  d'autrc  chose  tmdi 
gt/i'i  cnleude  'jii'  cc/ut  dt  ' L'Androinac/ui.'  " 

10 


146 


THE  DUG  BE  D OMELETTE. 


"  I  have  sinned — <'est  vrai — but,  my  {^ood  sir,  consider ! — you 
liiive  no  actual  intention  of  putting  such — such — barbarous 
threats  into  extHnition." 

"No  what?"  said  his  majesty — "conio,  sir,  strip!  " 

"Strip,  indeed! — very  pretty  i'  I'ldHi  ! — no,  sir,  I  shall  vnf. 
strip.  Who  arc  you,  pray,  that  I,  Due  J)c  L'Umelctto,  Prince 
de  Foie-Gras,  just  cojne  of  age,  author  of  the  '  Ma/.urkiad,'  and 
Member  of  the  Academj',  should  divest  niysclf  at  your  bidding 
of  the  sweetest  pantaloons  ever  made  by  Bourdon,  the  dain- 
tiest rohc-di'.-chaixbrc  ever  put  together  by  Koniburt— to  say 
nothing  of  the  tal<ing  my  hair  out  of  |)!iper — not  to  mention 
the  trouble  I  should  have  in  drawing  olf  my  gloves  ?  " 

"Who  aml?~ali,  true!  I  am  13aal-Zel)ul>,  Prince  of  tlio 
Fly.  I  took  thee,  just  now,  from  a  rosewood  coflin  iiil.ud 
with  ivory.  Thou  wast  curiously  scented,  and  labelled  as  ])er 
invoice.  Belial  sent  thee, — my  Inspector  of  Cemeteries.  The 
pantaloons,  •which  tliou  s.iyest  wcrr,  made  by  Bourdon,  are  an 
excellent  pair  of  linen  drawers,  and  thy  rdbf-de-cli'imbre  is  a 
shroud  of  no  scanty  dimensions." 

"Sir  !"  replied  the  Due,  "I  am  not  to  be  ii\sulted  with  hn- 
punity  !  Sir!  I  sliall  take  the  earliest  opportunity  in  avr'Ug. 
ing  this  insult!  Sir!  you  shall  hear  from  me  !  In  the  mean- 
time nu  revuir!"  and  the  Due  was  bowing  himself  out  of 
the  Satanic  pi-esence,  when  he  was  interrupfcil  and  brought 
back  by  a  gentleman  in  waiting.  Hereupon  his  ( h'ace  rublKnl 
his  eyes,  yawned,  shrugged  his  shoulders,  i-efUH-ted.  Having 
become  satisfied  of  his  identity,  he  took  a  l)ii'd's-oye  view  <jf 
his  whereabouts. 

The  apartment  was  superb.  Even  De  L'Omcletto  pro- 
nounced it  bicii  commc  il  fnut.  It  was  not  its  ^ongth  nor  its 
breadth,  but  its  height — ah,  that  was  appalling !  There  was 
no  ceiling — certainly  none — but  a  dense  whirling  mass  of 
fiery-colored  clouds.  His  Grace's  brain  reeled  as  he  glanced 
ujiward.  From  above,  hung  a  chain  of  an  unknown  blood- 
red  metal — its  upper  end  lost,  like  the  city  of  Boston,  parmi 
li^a  nnes.  From  its  nether  extremity  swung  a  larjj'e  cresset. 
The  Due  knew  it  to  be  a  ruby  ;  init  from  it  there  poured  a 
light  so  intense,  so  still,  so  tcii-ible,  Persia  never  worshipped 
such  —  Gheber  never  imagined  such  —  iMussnlman  never 
dreamed  of  such  when,  drugged  with  o])ium,  he  has  tottered 
to  a  bed  of  poppies,  his  bafk  to  the  flowers,  and  his  itwo  to 
the  God  Apollo.  The  Due  muttered  a  slight  oath,  decidedly 
approbatory. 


THE  DUfJ  BE  n OMELETTE. 


147 


/   a 


The  cornnra  of  tlio  room  were  rounded  into  niches.  Three 
of  these  wore  tilled  with  statues  of  gigantic  proportions.  Their 
beauty  was  Grecian,  their  deformity  Egyptian,  their  lout  en- 
semble French.  In  the  fourth  niche  the  statue  was  veiled  ;  it 
was  iiof.  colossal.  ]5ut  tlien  there  was  a  taptir  ankle,  as  an- 
dalled  foot.  De  L'Oraelette  pi'cssed  his  hand  upon  his  heart, 
closed  his  eyes,  raised  tlieui,  an<l  caught  his  Hat-mic  Slajesty 
— in  a  hlush. 

But  the  paintings  ! — Kupris !  Astarte  !  Astoreth  ! — a  thou., 
sand  and  the  same  !     And  llafaelle  has  belield  them  !     Yes, 

Kafaelle  has  been  here  ;  for  did  he  not  paint  the ?  and 

was  he  not  conso^iuently  damned?  The  paintings  !  the  jiaint- 
ings  !  O  luxury!  Glove!  who,  gazing  on  those  forbidden 
beauties,  shall  have  eyes  for  the  dainty  devices  of  the  golden 
frames  that  bespriukled,  like  stars,  the  liyacuith  and  the 
porphj'ry  walls  ? 

But  the  Due's  heart  is  fainting  witlun  him.  He  is  not,  how- 
ever, as  you  suppose,  di/.zy  with  magnificence,  nor  drunk  with 
the  ecstatic  lu'calh  of  those  inmunerable  censers.  C'esft  vrai 
(]ue  de  lollies  rr.s  c/joxcx  il  apenn!  henucoiip — mnii-i  !  The  Due  Do 
L'Gmeletto  is  terror-stricken  ;  for,  tlu-ough  the  lurid  vista 
which  a  single  uncurtained  window  is  allbrdiiig,  lo  !  gleams 
the  most  ghastly  of  all  tires ! 

Le  paiii-ri'  D  •!  He  could  not  help  imagining  that  the 
glorious,  tlie  voluptuous,  the  never-dying  melodies  whidi  i)er- 
vaded  that  hall,  as  they  passed  tittered  and  transnuited  through 
the  alchemy  of  the  enchanted  wijidow-panes,  were  tlie  waitings 
and  the  bowlings  of  the  hopcdcssand  the  danmed  !  And  tliere, 
too! — there! — upon  that  ottoman! — who  could  //rbe? — he, 
\\w  pelihnnUre — no,  the  Deity — who  sat  as  if  carved  in  marble, 
('/  (jiii,  soiiril,  with  his  piuo  countenance,  n  amiremeiit  ? 

MnU  il  fant  c/r/m --tliat  is  to  say,  a  Frenchman  never  faints 
outright.  Besides,  his  Grace  hated  a  scene — De  L"0]nelett© 
is  liimself  again.     There  were  some  foils  upon  a  table — some 

points  also.     The  Due  had  studied  under  li ;  il  avail  tiie 

.scs  .S7'.r  honimc.'^.  Now,  then,  il  peul  x'l'rliapper.  He  nu>asui'es 
two  points,  and,  with  a  grace  inimitable,  olrers  his  IMajesty 
the  choice.     Horreur !  his  IMajesty  does  not  fence! 

Mais  il  jDur ! — how  haj^py  a  thought! — but  his  Grace  had 
always  an  excellent  memory.  He  haddippcul  in  the  "  Diahle" 
of  the  Abbe  Gualtier.  Therein  it  is  said  "  ptc  Ic  Diahle  ii'ose 
pas  refuser  vv  jeu  ifiearh'." 

But    the    chances — the    chances !     True — desperate  ;  but 


148 


THE  Dim  T)E  VOMELETTK 


scarcely  more  desperate  than  tlie  Due.  Besides,  was  he  not 
in  the  Hoorot  ?  liad  he  not  Kkinniied  over  Pure  Le  Brun  ? 
was  he  not  a  member  of  the  Ckib  Vingt-un?  "Sije2>er(h," 
said  he,  "ja  Kci-ni  dcv.i-  foix  jiordii — I  sliall  be  doubly  damned 
— viola  Uiul !  (HcH!  ])is  Grace  shru<^ged  his  shoulders.)  Sije 
0(igne,ji'  rt'viciuirai  d  ineti  urtuluns — que  Ics  carles  soient  j)ri- 
IMrles  !  " 

His  Grace  was  all  care,  all  attention — his  INIajesty  all  con- 
fidence. A  spectator  woiild  have  thought  of  Francis  and 
Charles.  His  (Ji-aco  thouglit  of  his  game.  His  Majesty  did 
not  thnik  ;  he  shul'llod.     Tlie  Due  cut. 

The  cai'ds  are  dealt.  T])e  trump  is  turned — it  is — it  is— • 
the  king !  No  it  was  the  queen.  His  Jfajesty  cursed  her 
masculine  habiliments.  Do  L'Omel<;tte  placed  his  hand  upon 
his  heart. 

They  jilay.  The  Due  counts.  The  hand  is  out.  His  Ma- 
jesty counts  heavily,  smiles,  and  is  taking  wine.  The  Dug 
slips  a  card. 

"  C'cst  a  vous  a /aire,"  said  his  Majesty,  cutting.  His  Grace 
bowed,  dealt,  and  arose  from  the  table  en  iiresentont  le  Eoi. 

His  ilajesty  looked  chagrined. 

Had  Alexander  not  been  Alexander,  he  would  have  been 
Diogenes  ;  and  the  Due  assured  his  antagonist  in  taking  leave, 
"que  till  )i'ei''l  pus  tic  Dc  L'OmdeUe  il  n' aur  ail  point  d"  objection 
VCtre  le  Liable:' 


THE  OBLONG  BOX. 


Sojin  years  ap^o,  I  engaged  passage  fi'om  Charlesinn,  S.  C, 
to  the  cit}'  of  New  York,  in  Uio.  lino  ])acket^Hliip  Indcpoud- 
ence,  Ca])tain  Hardy.  Wo  Avcro  to  sail  on  the  lil'itienlU  of 
the  month  (June),  -weather  i)ernutl,ing  ;  and,  on  tlio  foux*- 
tecntb,  I  went  on  board  to  arrange  some  mattor:i  in  my  state- 
room, 

I  found  that  wo  were  to  have  a  great  many  jjasscngers,  in- 
clmting  a  more  than  usual  niunlK  r  of  ladien.  On  tlie  list 
were  several  of  my  ac(juaintam'es  ;  and  ainong  other  names, 
I  was  rejoiced  to  see  that  of  IMr.  Cornelius  Wyatt,  a  youn;,' 
artist,  for  wliom  T  enlertaineil   rc(Hiir;s  of  warm  friendship, 

-III'  liad  bi'cii  witli  nui  a  fcllow-stLulcnt  at  C IJinvfrsity, 

wiicre  we  wcra  very  much  together.  Ho  had  tlie  ordinary 
teinj)erament  of  genius,  iind  was  a  compound  of  misanthropy, 
seiisilnlity,  and  eutluisiasm.  To  tlieso  (ju;dilies  lie  united  tlio 
warmest  and  truest  heart  whieh  ever  be;it  in  a  human  bosom. 

I  observed  that  his  nanus  was  carded  uj)on  tiirt-G  state- 
rooms ;  aud,  upon  agaiu  rcfcaaang  to  the  list  of  passengers, 
I  found  tliat  lio  had  engage(l  passag'o  for  himself,  wiU'.,  and 
two  sisters  — Ids  own.  Tlio  staterooms  \\\'V0  sullieitmtiy 
roomy,  and  each  liad  two  berths,  one  above  the  other.  These 
berths,  to  be  sure,  were  so  exceedingly  narrow  as  to  be  in- 
Kullicient  for  more  tlian  one  person;  s! ill,  I  could  not  com- 
prehend why  there  were  thn'c  stattu'ooms  for  th(>se  foi;r  per- 
sons. I  was,  just  at  this  epocli,  in  one  of  tliose  moody  frames 
of  mind  wiiich  make  a  man  abnormally  incpiisitive  about  tri- 
lies  :  and  I  confess,  with  shame,  that  I  l)usied  myself  in  a 
variety  of  ill-bn'il  and  pivposterous  conjecture  nbout  this 
matter  of  the  Hupernunu.'rary  stateroou).  It  wa  .  no  business 
of  mine,  to  be  siu-e  ;  but  with  noni*  tlie  less  pertinacity  did  I 
occupy  myself  iu  altcmj)ts  to  resolve  tlie  enigma.  At  last  I 
reached  a  couclurfioii  which  wrought  in  mc  };i-eat  wonder  wliy 


150 


TUE  OBLONa  J10X. 


I  had  not  arrived  at  it  boforr.  "  It  is  a  fjorvant,  of  course," 
I  said  ;  "  wliat  a  fool  I  am,  not  sooner  to  liavc  tlioiiglit  of  so 
obvious  a  solution  ! "  And  (hen  I  a^^'ain  rejiaired  in  the  list, — 
but  here  I  saw  distinctly  tliat  no  serviuitwaH  to  (tome  with  tho 
])arty  ;  although,  in  fact,  it  had  been  the  original  design  to 
bring  one — for  the  ■words  "  and  servant  "  had  been  liist  Avrit- 
teu  and  then  ovorscored.  "  Oh,  extra  bagj^'ago  to  bo  sure,"'  I 
noAv  said  to  ni;.  self — "someihing  he  Avishes  not  to  be  put  in 
the  hold — something  to  1)0  keptumh'r  his  own  eye — ah,  I  have 
it — a  painting  or  so — and  this  is  what  he  has  been  Ijargaining 
about  with  I'icolino,  the  Italian  Jew."  This  idea  satislied  me, 
and  I  dismissed  my  curiosity  for  the  nonce. 

"Wyatt's  two  sisters  I  knew  very  well,  and  most  amiable  and 
clever  girls  they  were.  His  wife  he  had  newly  married,  and 
I  had  never  yet  seen  her.  He  had  often  talked  about  her  in 
my  presence,  however,  and  in  his  iisual  style  of  enthusiasm. 
He  described  her  as  of  surpassing  l)eauty,  wit,  and  accom- 
plishnu'nt.  I  was,  therefore,  quite  anxious  to  make  her  ac- 
quaintance. 

On  the  day  in  Avhich  I  visited  the  ship  (the  fourteenth), 
"Wyatt  and  a  party  were  also  to  visit  it — so  tho  caijtain  in- 
formed me — and  1  waited  on  board  an  hour  longer  than  I 
had  designed,  in  hope  of  being  presented  to  the  brich?  ;  but 
then  an  apology  came.  "  ]\[r.  W.  Avas  a  little  indisjiosed,  and 
would  decline  coming  on  board  xuitil  to-morrow,  at  the  hour 
of  sailing." 

The  morrow  having  arrived,  I  was  going  from  my  hotel  to 
i\io.  wharf,  when  Captain  Hai'dy  met  me  and  said  that  "owing 
circumstances"  (a  stujnd  but  convenient  phrase),  "ho  rather 
thought  the  Independence  would  not  sail  for  a  day  or  two, 
and  that  wijcn  all  was  i-ead}',  he  Axoidd  send  up  and  l(>t  me 
know."  Tliis  I  thought  strange,  for  there  was  a  still'  southerly 
breeze  ;  but  as  "  the  circumstances  "  were  not  forthcoming, 
although  I  pumped  for  them  with  nuich  perseverance,  I  had 
nothing  to  do  but  to  return  home  and  digest  my  impatience 
at  leisure. 

I  did  not  receive  tho  expected  message  from  the  captain  for 
nearly  a  week.  It  came  at  length,  however,  and  I  immediately 
went  on  board.  The  ship  was  crowded  with  passengers,  and 
everything  Avas  in  the  bustle  attendant  upon  making  sail. 
AVyatt's  party  arrived  in  al)out  ten  minutes  after  myself. 
There  Avcre  the  two  sisters,  the  bride,  and  the  artist— tho  latter 
in  one  of  liia  customary  llts  of  moody  misanthropy.     1  was 


THE  OBLONG  BOX. 


151 


too  well  used  to  thoso,  however,  to  pay  thorn  any  special  at- 
tention. He  did  not  even  introdnco  me  to  his  wife,  tlii.s 
courtesy  de  ,olvin,f)f,  per  force,  upon  his  sibtcr  Marian,  a  very 
sweet  and  intelligent  girl,  who,  iu  a  few  hurried  words,  made 
us  acquainted. 

Mrs.  Wyatt  had  been  closely  veiled  ;  and  when  she  raised 
her  veil,  in  acknowledging  my  bow,  I  confess  that  I  was  very 
profoundly  astonished.  I  should  have  been  mucli  more  so, 
however,  had  not  knig  experience  advised  me  not  to  trust,  with 
too  implicit  a  reliance,  the  enthusiastic  descriptions  of  my 
friend,  tlie  artist,  when  indulging  in  comments  upon  the  loveli- 
ness of  woman.  When  l)eauty  was  the  theme,  I  well  kncsw  with 
wliat  facility  he  soared  into  tlie  regions  of  llie  ])urely  ideal. 

The  truth  is.  I  could  not  help  regarding  ]\Iis.  "NVyatt  as  a 
decidedly  plain-looking  woman.  If  not  positively  ugly,  she 
was  not,  I  think,  very  far  from  it.  She  was  dressed,  however, 
in  exquisite  taste — and  then  I  had  no  doubt  that  she  had  cap- 
tivated my  friends  heart  by  the  more  enduring  graces  of  the 
intellect  and  soul.  She  said  very  few  words,  and  passed  at 
once  into  her  stateroom  with  I\Ir.  W. 

My  old  incjuisitiveness  now  retui'ned.  There  was  no  servant 
— that  was  a  settled  i)()int.  I  looked,  therefore,  for  the  extra 
baggage.  After  .some  delay,  a  cart  arrived  at  the  Avliarf,  with 
an  oblong  pine  box,  which  Avas  everything  that  seemed  to  be 
expected.  Immediately  ujioti  ita  arrival  we  made  sail,  and  in 
a  short  time  were  safely  over  the  1)ar  and  standing  out  to  sea. 

The  box  in  question  was,  as  I  say,  ol)long.  It  was  about  six 
feet  in  length  l)y  two  and  a  half  in  breadth  ;  I  observed  it  at- 
tentively, and  like  to  be  precise.  Now  this  shape  wiiHpi'fuliar  ; 
and  no  sooner  had  I  seen  it,  than  I  took  credit  to  myself  lor 
tlie  acciu'acy  of  my  guessing.  I  had  reached  the  conclusion, 
it  will  bo  remembered,  that  the  extra  baggage  of  my  friend, 
the  artist,  would  prove  to  be  pictures,  or  at  least  a  picture  ;  for 
I  knew  he  had  been  for  several  weeks  in  conference  with  Nico- 
lino :  and  now  here  was  a  box  which,  from  its  shape,  could 
possibly  contain  nothing  in  the  world  but  a  copy  of  Leonardo's 
"  Last  Supper  ;  "  and  a  copy  of  tliis  very  "  Last  Supjier,"  done 
by  Rubini  the  younger  at  Florence,  I  had  known,  for  some 
time,  to  be  in  the  possession  of  Nicolino.  Tliis  point,  tluu'o- 
fore,  I  considered  as  suiticiently  settled.  1  cluickled  exces- 
sively when  I  thought  of  my  acumen.  It  was  the  lirst  time  I 
had  ever  known  AVyatt  to  keej)  from  nu;  any  of  his  artisticiii 
secrets ;  but  here  he  evidently  intended  to  statd  a  march  upon 


{,% 


]r)2  THE  OBLONG  BOX. 

Xi\Q,  and  Kimip;,",lo  a  lino  pioluro  to  Now  York,  imdor  my  \o\-^ 
noso  ;  expo('tin<;-  mo  to  know  notliin^  of  the  matter.  I  rosolvotl 
to  quiz  liini  m'll.  now  and  liorcaftor. 

Ono  thin,u',  liowovcr,  annoyod  nio  not  a  littlo.  Tho  box  did 
not  go  into  tho  extra  stater()f)rn.  It  was  <lopoHitod  in  Wyatt's 
own;  and  thoro,  too,  it  remained,  oecnpying  nearly  tlio  whole 
of  tho  floor  -no  doubt  to  the  exceeding  dis(H)nifortof  tho  artist 
and  his  wife  ;— this  the  more  especially  as  the  tar  or  paint  with 
whi(!h  it  was  lettered  in  !-ii)rawling  capitals,  emitted  a  stron_ 
disagreeable,  and,  to  my  fancy,  a  peculiarly  disgusting  odor 
On  the  lid  were  painted  the  words — "J/r.--.  Adelaide  Curtis, 
Atlxniif,  New  Yod:  (Hiarrje  of  Cornelius  ]Vijalt,E<q.  This  side 
lip.     To  he  liandlt'd  uuth  rare." 

Now,  I  was  aware  that  ]Mrs.  Adelaide  Curtis,  of  Albany,  was 
the  artist's  wife's  naothcr  ;  but  thou  I  looked  upon  tho  whole 
address  as  a  niystitieation,  intended  especially  for  myself.  I 
maile  up  my  mind,  of  course,  that  the  box  and  contents  would 
never  get  fartiier  north  than  the  studio  of  my  misanthropic 
friend,  in  Chambers  Street.  Now  York. 

For  tho  first  three  or  four  days  we  had  fine  weather,  although 
the  wind  was  dead  ahead  ;  having  eliopped  i-ound  to  the  north- 
ward, innnodifitely  upon  our  losing  sight  of  the  coast.  Tho 
passc'ngoi's  were,  consctiuently,  iu  liij;li  S2)irits,  and  dispo.sed 
to  be  siicial.  I  must  exoopt,  howev(>r,  Vv'yatt  and  his  sisters, 
who  behaved  stiHly,  and,  1  eould  not  lulp  thinking,  luicour- 
teously  to  the  rest  of  the  party.  Wijafl\'<  conduct  I  did  not  so 
much  regard.  He  was  gloomy,  even  beyond  his  usual  habit — 
in  fact  lie  w'as  vKiroxc — but  in  hnii  I  was  |)rcpared  for  eccen- 
tricity. For  the  sister^;,  however,  I  could  make  no  excuse. 
Tliey  secluded  themselves  in  their  staterooms  duriug  the 
greater  part  of  the  passage,  and  absolutely  refused,  although  I 
repeatedly  mged  them,  to  hold  commuuicatiou  with  any  per- 
son on  board. 

Mrs.  Wyatt  herself  was  far  more  agreeable.  IITaat  is  to  say, 
she  was  chad;/  ;  and  to  be  chatty  is  no  slight  recommendation 
at  sea.  She  became  excessively  intimate  with  most  of  the 
ladies  ;  and,  to  my  profound  astonishment,  evinced  no  equivo- 
cal disposition  to  coquet  with  the  men.  She  amused  us  all 
vciy  much.  1  say  "amused" — and  soarcely  know  how  to  ex- 
plain myself.  The  truth  is,  I  soon  found  that  IVIrs.  W.  was 
far  oftener  laughed  at  than  with.  The  gentlemen  said  little 
about  her  ;  but  the  ladies,  in  a  little  while,  pronoimced  hot 
a  "  good-hearted  thing,  rather  indififereut-looldnjj,  totally  un» 


}■ 


Tin:  ()IIIJ>.\<!   IIOX. 


153 


educated,  and  decidedly  vulgar."  The  gToat  ^voudor  was,  how 
"Wyatt  liad  been  fiitiappcd  into  jsuch  a  luatcli.  Wcaltli  was 
the  general  solution — l)ut  this  I  knew  to  ho  no  Holutiou  at  all ; 
for  AVyatt  had  told  nio  lliat  sho  neither  hrougdit  hitu  a  tlollai* 
nor  had  any  oxitectations  from  any  source  whatwer.  ''  Ho  had 
married,"  ho  said,  "  for  love,  and  for  lovo  only;  and  his  hrido 
wan  far  nioi'o  tlian  worthy  fif  liis  love,"  "Wlirii  I  thought  of 
these  expres.sions,  o)i  the  part  of  my  friend,  1  confess  that  I 
felt  indescribably  pu/.zled.  Could  it  be  jjossiljle  that  he  vras 
t.tking  leave  of  his  senses  ?  What  elso  could  I  think  ?  //(.•,  eo 
r(  lined,  so  intelleetuul,  so  fastidious,  with  ho  exciuisito  a  per- 
(•(  ption  of  the  faulty,  and  so  keen  an  ajipreeiation  of  the  beai;- 
tiful !  To  be  sure,  the  lady  seenietl  os2)eeially  fond  of  him  — 
])ar(ieularly  so  in  his  al)senec — wIk'U  she  made  herself  ridicu- 
lous by  frequent  ([notations  of  what  had  l)een  said  by  her 
'•  beloved  husband.  Mi-.  Wyatt."  Tli(i  word  "  husband  "seemed 
forever — to  use  one  cf  her  own  d(!li('at(!  exju'cssious — forever 
"  ontho  tip  of  her  tongue. '  In  the  meantime,  it  was  observed 
by  all  on  board,  that  ho  avoided  her  in  the  most  pointed  man- 
ner, and,  for  the  most  part,  shut  himself  uj)  alone;  in  his  state- 
room, where,  in  fact,  he  mi.",ht  have  been  said  to  live  altogether, 
leaving  his  wife  at  full  li1)erty  to  a!uuso  hers:>lf  as  sho  thought 
best,  in  tho  public  society  of  tlio  main  cabin. 

My  conclusion,  from  what  I  saw  and  heard,  v/as,  that  tho 
artist,  by  some  unaccoimtablo  freak  of  fate,  or  porha2)S  in 
some  fit  of  enthusiastic  and  fam^iful  passion,  had  been  induced 
to  imito  himself  with  a  person  altogether  beneath  him,  and 
that  the  natural  result,  entire  and  speedy  disgust,  had  ensued. 
I  pitied  him  from  the  1)oitoin  of  my  heart — but  could  not,  for 
that  reason,  quite  forgive  hisincomnuinicativeness  in  tlieiaii'- 
teroftho  "Last  Supper."     For  this  I  resolved  to  have  my 


revenge. 


One  day  he  camo  upon  deck,  and,  taking  his  ami  as  had 
been  my  wont,  I  sauntered  with  him  backward  and  forward. 
His  gloom,  however  (which  1  considend  ([uito  naturtl  under 
the  circumstances),  seemed  entirely  luiabated.  He  said  little, 
and  that  moodily,  and  with  evident  ell'ort.  I  ventured  a  jest 
or  two,  and  he  made  a  sickening  attempt  at  a  smile.  I'oor 
fellow!  as  I  thought  of  his  u-ifc,  I  wondered  that  ho  could 
have  heart  to  put  on  even  the  semblance  of  mirth.  At  hist  I 
ventured  a  home-thrust.  I  determined  to  commence  a  series 
of  covert  in.sinuatioiis,  or  inuendoes,  about  the  oblong  box — • 
just  to  let  him  perceive,  gradually,  that  I  waa  not  altogethei 


ir.i 


TIIH  on  LONG  JIOX. 


llu)  butt,  or  Tietini,  of  liiH  littlo  bit  of  jjlonsaut  mystifioution 
i.Iy  first  obHorvaiion  wjis  by  way  of  opc'iiiii<:j  a  iiiuskcd  bat 
icvy.  I  Siiid  HoiiK.'ilii?!'^'  iiboiit  llic  " ])i'('iili,ir  sliapo  of  llml 
box;"  and,  us  I  wpokc  tlio  ^vol•d;^,  I  i-^iiiilrd  luiowiii^ly, uiiikod, 
aud  touched  him  yc'iilly  Avith  my  forc-liii^ifcx'  in  tlio  ribs. 

Tlie  mauner  in  Avhich  Wyntt  rccfivcd  t'u,s  haimloss  plcitH- 
antry  convinced  me,  at  once,  that  he  \\  ;-i  mad.  At  iirsl  he 
stared  at  me  an  if  ho  found  it  impossible  to  <'om])reljeud  Ihe 
uitlicism  of  my  remark  ;  but  as  its  point  seemed  sh)\vly  lo 
make  its  Avay  into  liis  l)nun,  his  eyes,  in  the  same  proportion, 
seemed  protrudiu;;'  from  their  sockets.  Then  lie  grew  very 
red — then  hideously  pale — tlien,  as  if  hi;^hly  amused  ■\vilh 
what  I  had  insinuated,  ho  began  a  loud  and  boisterous  laugh, 
vshich,  to  my  astonishment,  ho  kept  up,  with  gradually  in- 
creasing vigor,  for  ten  minutes  or  moi'e.  Tn  conclusion,  h(! 
fell  Hat  and  heavily  upon  tlie  deck.  A\'hen  I  ran  to  uplift  him, 
to  all  appearance  ho  wnn  dcml. 

I  called  assistance,  and,  with  miu^h  difiicuUy,  we  brought 
him  to  himself.  Upon  reviving  he  spoke  in<;ohereutly  1'(H' 
Bome  time.  At  length  wo  bled  him  and  put  him  to  be(k 
The  next  morning  lu^  was  ((uite  recovered,  so  far  as  regard(!d 
his  mere  bodily  health.  Of  his  mind  I  say  notliing,  of  course. 
I  avoided  him  during  the  rest  of  the  passage,  by  advice  of  the 
ciiptaiu,  who  seined  to  coincide  with  me  altogetlier  in  my 
vioMS  of  his  insimity,  but  cautioned  me  to  say  nothing  on  this 
lie-'.d  to  any  person  on  board. 

Several  circuinslances  occurred  immediately  after  this  fit  of 
^'v'yatt's  which  contributed  to  heighten  tla^  curiosity  with  which 
I  was  already  jjossessed.  Among  other  things,  this :  I  had 
been  nervous — drank  too  inuch  strong  green  tea,  and  slept  ill 
at  night — in  fact,  for  two  lughts  I  could  not  be  pro2)erly  said 
to  sleep  at  all  Now,  my  stateroom  opened  into  the  main 
cabin,  or  dining-room,  as  did  those  of  all  the  single  men  on 
board.  "NVyatt's  three  rooms  were  in  tli(!  after-cabin,  which 
was  sepai'ated  from  the  main  one  by  a  slight  sliding  dooi', 
never  locked  even  at  night.  As  we  were  almost  constantly  on 
a  wind,  and  the  breeze  was  not  a  little  stilt",  the  shii)  heeled  to 
leeward  very  considerably  ;  and  whenever  her  starboard  side 
was  to  leeward,  the  sliding  door  between  the  cabins  slid  ojien, 
and  HO  remained,  nobody  taking  the  trouble  to  get  u})  and  shut 
it.  J3ut  my  berth  was  iu  such  a  position,  that  when  my  (jwn 
stateroom  door  was  open,  as  well  as  the  sliding  door  iu  ques- 
tion (aud  iiiy  own  door  was  alwaijs  opeu  on  account  of  the 


Tin:  ojiLONa  box. 


153 


luiiL),  I  could  HOC  into  the  aftcr-c.ibin  (juito  diHlinotly,  aiul 
just  lit  tliiit  portion  of  it,  too,  ^vllOl•n  wore  sitiiatod  tlio  stato- 
rooms  of  Mr.  Wyatt.  Woll,  (liniii<,'  <\vo  ni^'lifw  (//»<;  (lonsccii- 
tiv(!)  whilo  I  lay  awake,  1  clculy  saw  jNlrs.  W'.,  aljout  eleven 
o'{!lo(!k  each  ni|^ht,  Btcal  cautiously  from  tlicj  wtateroom  of 
]\Ir.  W.,  aucl  cnlor  the  extra  room,  wlu'i-e  slio  roinaiiied  until 
(l;iyl)reak,  when  hIio  was  call(;d  hy  her  husband  and  went  luck. 
That  they  were  virtually  separated  was  clear.  They  had  sei>- 
arate  apartments — no  doubt  in  eonfenij)lati(in  of  a  more  per- 
iiianont  divorce  ;  and  hei-e,  after  all,  1  thoughi,  was  the  mys- 
tery of  the  extra  Htat(;rooni. 

Tiiero  was  another  circuniHtance,  too,  wliicii  interested  mo 
iiiiich.  During  the  two  wakeful  ni<,'lits  in  question,  and  im- 
mediately after  the  disappearance  of  A£rs.  Wyatt  into  the  extra 
stateroom,  I  was  attracted  by  certain  ain^nilnr,  eautious,  sub- 
dued noises  in  that  of  her  Imsband.  After  list(!nin,L(  to  them 
for  some  time,  with  thou,<.,ditful  attention,  I  at  leni^dli  succeeded 
perfectly  in  translatin<^  tlieir  import.  They  were  sounds  oc- 
casioned by  the  artist  in  pryinpf  o])eu  the  oblong'  box,  by 
moans  of  a  chisel  aiul  mallet — tlie  latter  bcini;;  nnillled,  or 
deadened,  by  some  soft,  woollen  or  cotton  substance  in  which 
its  head  was  envelo])ed. 

In  this  manner  1  fancied  I  coidd  distini^uish  the  jn-eciso 
monu'iit  when  he  fairly  disen<^a;^ed  the  lid — also,  that  I  ctould 
determine  when  ho  removed  it  alto;^'cther,  and  when  ho  dc'- 
posited  it  upon  the  lower  berth  in  his  room  ;  this  latter  point 
I  knew,  for  example,  by  certain  sli;.';lit  taps  which  the  lid  made 
in  striking  a^^ainst  the  wooden  ed;4es  of  the  berth,  as  he  en- 
deavored to  lay  it  down  vcnj  gently — there  being  no  room  for 
it  on  the  floor.  After  this  there  Avas  a  dead  stillness,  and  I 
heard  nothing  more,  upon  either  occasion,  until  nearly  day- 
break ;  unless,  perhajis,  I  may  mention  a  low  sobbing,  or 
murmuring  sound,  so  very  nuieh  suppressed  as  ti>  be  nearly 
inaudible — if,  indeed,  the  whole  of  tliis  hitter  noise  wen!  not 
rather  produced  by  my  own  imagination.  I  say  it  seenuHl 
to  rcsiunhh;  sobbing  or  sighing — but,  of  course,  it  could  not 
have  been  either.  I  rather  think  it  was  a  ringing  in  n,)-  own 
ears.  Mr.  AVyatt,  no  doubt,  according  to  custom,  was  merely 
giving  the  reiu  to  one  of  his  hobbies — indulging  in  one  of  his 
tits  of  artistic  enthusiasm.  He  had  opened  liis  oblong  box, 
in  order  to  feast  his  eyes  on  the  pictorial  treasure  within. 
There  was  nothing  in  this,  however,  to  make  him  w/^  I  repeat 
therefore,  that  it  uiuat  have  boeu  aimply  a  freak  of  my  owu 


15C 


THE  OBLONG  IIOX. 


fancy,  distempered  l)j  good  Captain  Ifardy's  green  tea.  Just 
h('['()r<^  dawn,  on  eacli  of  flio  two  iii-iits  of  whicli  I  speak,  I 
distinctly  lioiird  Mr.  AVyatt  replace'  tlic  lid  upon  the  oblong 
box,  and  forco  the  nails  into  Ibeir  old  places,  by  means  of  tlio 
nmilled  niallot.  Having  done  this,  ha  issued  from  his  state- 
room, fully  dressed,  and  proceeded  to  call  3Irs.  AV.  from 
hers. 

"\Vo  had  been  at  sea  seven  days,  and  wore  now  olTCapo  Iiaf- 
t>'r;;s,  when  thero  came  a  ti-tniendously  heavy  blow  from  the 
Sijutlnvest.  We  were,  in  ajiieasure,  prepared  f(n"  it,  howevei", 
as  the  weather  had  been  holding  out  threats  for  some  time. 
Everything  was  made  snug,  alow  and  aloft  ;  and  as  the  wind 
.sicadlly  fivshened,  we  lay  to,  at  lengih,  r.iidor  spanker  and 
foretopsail,  both  double-n;ef('d. 

la  this  trim,  wo  rude  sifely  enom;h  for  foi'ty-right  liours — 
the  ship  proving  hoi-si  If  an  excellent  sea  boat,  in  many  re- 
b})ecis,  and  shipping  no  water  of  any  conse(]n(!nco.  At  tho 
oiid  of  this  })eri()d,  however,  tlio  gale  had  fresliene>l  into  a 
Irarricane,  and  our  afler-sail  split  into  ribbons,  bunging  ua 
so  m'.ich  in  tho  li(>n;.h  of  llio  water  that  we  shipped  several 
pLMdigiou.i  S(;as,  one  hiinieiliately  after  iho  other.  By  this  ac- 
ci.l;'nt  wo  lost  ihr.'O  incii  ovejl)oard  witli  1h(3  caluxwc,  imd 
nearly  the  wIdIo  of  the  1  irboard  bulwarks.  Scarc'ly  had  w» 
rccovt  red  our  s.Mses,  before  the  foreto])sail  wcjit  into  shre(^ls. 
when  vre  got  up  a  storm  sta.y-siil,  iind  willi  lliis  did  pretts 
"Wfll  for  some  hours,  iho  ship  headhig  tho  sea  nnich  more 
steadily  than  before. 

Tlio  g:d(!  still  hold  on,  however,  and  v.e  saw  no  signs  of  its 
cbating.  The  rigging  was  foun>l  to  bo  ill-littcd,  and  greatly 
strained  ;  and  on  (Ih;  third  d'ly  of  tlie  blow,  about  iiv<>  in  tho 
afternoon,  our  mizzeu-mast,  in  a  heavy  lurch  to  windward, 
went  by  tho  board.  For  an  hour  or  more,  we  tried  in  vain  to 
get  rid  of  it,  on  account  of  the  prodigious  rolling  of  the  sliip  , 
and,  before  we  had  succee(lcd,  the  carpenter  came  aft  aiid  an- 
nounced four  feet  water  in  the  hohl.  To  add  to  our  dilemma, 
we  found  the  pumi)S  chokfd  and  nearly  uselrss. 

All  was  now  confusio!!  and  despair — but  an  eftbrt  Avas  nrido 
to  ligliteu  tho  ship  by  throwing  overboard  as  nnich  of  her 
cargo  as  could  bo  )'eached,  and  by  cutting  away  the  two  masta 
that  remaineil.  This  we  at  Ia.st  accomplished — Ijut  we  were 
still  unable  to  do  anything  at  tlie  })umps  ;  and,  hi  the  mean, 
time,  th(!  leak  gained  (  n  us  veiw  fast. 

At  sundown,  the  gale  hud  sensibly  diminished  in  violoncq, 


TUE  OBLONG  BOX. 


157 


and,  as  the  sea  wont  down  witli  it,  wo  sliU  f  ntcrtniued  faint 
liopo:-!  of  saving  oursolvos  in  tlio  l)'.);tt:-.  At  fight  i'.:.r,  flie 
clouds  l)roke  away  to  win<lwc'U'd,  and  wo  had  tlic  advantage  of 
a  fidl  moon — a  pirce  of  good  fortune  which  served  wonder- 
fully to  cheer  our  drooping  spirits. 

After  incredible  labor  we  succeeded,  at  length,  in  golting 
the  long-boat  over  the  side  without  material  accident,  and  into 
this  we  crowded  the  whole  of  the  crew  and  most  of  the  pas- 
sengers. This  ])ar{y  made  off  immediately,  and,  after  under- 
going much  sut'terijig,  linally  arrived,  Iji  safety,  at  Od-acoke 
Iidet,  ou  the  third  day  after  the  wreck. 

Fourteen  passenger ■<,  with  the  Captain,  remained  on  boai'd, 
resolving  to  trust  their  forlunes  to  tiie  jolly-boat  at  the  stern. 
We  lowered  it  without  difficulty,  rdiliough  it  Avas  only  by  a 
miracle  that  we  jirevented  it  from  swinuping  as  it  touched  tlie 
water.  It  contained,  when  alloaf,  l!i(!  c:'.]'t'du  and  his  wife, 
^fr.  AV'yatt  and  party,  a  ]\['>xicau  oliicer,  wife,  four  chil  ireu, 
and  myself,  with  a  negro  valet. 

We  had  no  room,  of  cou)-sc,  for  anyiliing  except  a  iow  pos- 
i'iively  necessary  instruments,  some  provision,  and  the  clothes 
upon  our  backs.  No  onn  h.id  thought  of  even  attcmptii-.g  io 
snve  anytliing  more.  Wnat  must  have  been  the  astoi:i..iim(  nt 
of  all  ihen,  when,  having  proceeded  a  fe-.v  fathoms  IVom  tiie 
sliij),  ^fr.  "Wyalt  stood  up  in  tlio  Kternsheels,  and  coolly  do- 
miudod  of  Cai)taai  Hardy  that  the  lioat  should  be  put  back 
for  the  purpose  of  t.ildng  i'l  iiis  oblong  box  ! 

"Sit  down,  Jlr.  Wyatt,'  replied  the  Captain,  somewliat 
sternly;  "you  wid  capsi/e  u:s  if  you  do  n"t  sit  quite  still. 
Our  cfuuw.de  is  almost  in  the  v.ater  now.' 

"The  l)ox!"  vociferated  Mr.  Wyatt,  still  stai  ding— "  the 
box,  I  say!  Captain  llardv,  you  cannot,  yo-i  n-ill  not  refuse 
mo.  Its  weight  will  bo  but  a  tiille — it  is  nothing  —njt  re  noth- 
ing. V>\  the  mother  who  bore  you — for  the  love  of  Heaven — 
bv  yoiu"  hope  of  salvation,  I  inwlorc  vou  to  put  bacic  for  the 
box  ! " 

The  Cajitain,  for  n  moment,  seemed  touched  by  the  earnest 
rppeal  of  the  artist,  but  ho  regained  his  stern  composr.rc,  and 
merely  said  : 

"Mr.  Wyatt  you  are  JH*^/'/.  I  cannot  listen  toy.  n.  Sildown, 
I  say,  or  you  will  sw!un[)  tlui  l)Oiit,  iStay — iiold  hiiii- -^ei/a 
liim  !     ho  is  about  to  .'r^pring  overboard  !     There — I  knew  it — 


ne  19  over 


.  1 


As  the  Captain  said  this,  Mr.  Wyalt,  in  fact,  sprang  froiu 


158 


THE  OnLOXG  BOX. 


the  boat,  and,  as  wo  wore  yet  in  the  lee  of  tlic  wreck,  snoocedcfl, 
by  ahiiost  snporhnniun  exertion,  in  getting  hold  of  a  rope 
which  hung  from  the  fore-chains.  In  another  moment  ho  waa 
on  board,  and  rushing  frantically  down  into  the  cabin. 

In  the  meanlinio,  we  had  been  swept  astern  of  the  ship,  and 
being  quite  out  of  her  lee,  were  at  the  mercy  of  the  tremen- 
dous sea  which  w;i.s  still  running.  ■V\  t  made  a  determined  ef- 
fort to  put  back,  but  our  littlu  '.■  at  bke  a  feather  in  the 
breath  of  the  tempest.  "We  sav  .  ^  lUice  that  the  doom  of 
the  unfortunate  artist  was  scaled. 

As  our  distance  from  the  wi-eck  rapidly  increased,  the  mad- 
Dirui  (for  as  such  only  could  we  regard  him)  was  seen  to  emergo 
from  the  conlpaIuoH-^\^'ly,  up  which,  by  dint  of  a  strenglh  that 
appeai'cd  gigantic,  he  dragged,  bodily,  the  oblong  box.  While 
we  gized  in  the  extremity  of  astonishment,  he  passed,  rapidly, 
sevi>ral  turns  of  a  three-inch  rope,  first  ai'ound  the  box  aud 
then  around  liis  body.  In  another  iu.stant  botli  body  and  box 
were  in  tlie  sea — dis  i,j)poaring  suddenly,  at  onc(i  and  forever. 

We  lingered  awliile  sadly  u])on  our  oars,  with  our  eyes  riv- 
eted upon  tlie  spot.  At  lengtii  wo  pulled  away.  The  silence 
romiiined  unbroken  for  an  hour.  Finally,  I  hazivrded  a  re- 
mark. 

*'  Did  you  observe,  Captain,  how  suddenly  i' 
not  that  an  exceedingly  shigular  tiling  ?     I  ■ 
tertained  some  feeble  liope  of  his  liiial  deliv-j. 
him  lash  himself  to  the  box,  and  commit  hiait 

"They  sank  a.s  a  matter  of  coui-se,"  replied  '.v.^  (Japtain, 
"  and  that  like  a  shot.  They  will  soon  rise  again,  however—' 
hut  ))ot  till  llw  sail  lacli.-^.'' 

"The  salt!  "I  ejaculated. 

"  Hush !  "  said  the  C!aptain,  pointing  to  the  wife  and  sislera 
of  the  deceased.  "  We  must  talk  of  these  things  at  some  more 
api)ropriate  time." 


;•  ;ank?  Was 
''■St  ihat  I  en- 
*  '.  \.  'leu  I  saw 
■  ':■:■  lUo  sea." 


We  suffered  much,  and  made  a  uarrov  i  -inpe  ;  but  fortune 
l^efriended  c.--,  as  well  as  our  males  in  il  V»  g  boat.  We 
lande<l,  in  tine,  more  <lead  thaii  alive,  after  four  days  of  intense 
distress,  upon  the  beach  opposite  Koanoke  Island.  We  re- 
mained thiu''  a  Wv  ok,  W'  i\.  ..ot  ill-M-e;ii(  d  by  the  wreckers,  and 
at  length  ohlaii'  d  a  pasiii-iv  ti)  New  York. 

Al)out  a  moi  th  after  jhe  loss  of  the  Independence,  I  hap- 
pened to  meet  Captain  Hardy  in  Uroadwuy.     Our  couvcrsa' 


THE  OBLONQ   BOX. 


159 


tion  turned,  naturallv.  upon  tho  disfiste)',  and  espocialJy  upon 
the  Rail  fute  of  jxx^r  Wyatt  I  tliiiH  Icarued  the  follo\viii<,' par- 
ticulai-K. 

Tlu;  artist  liaxi  enirageJ  passage  for  hiiiiKelf,  wife,  two  sisters, 
ami  a  servant.  His  wife  was,  indeed,  as  slus  Lad  been  repre- 
sented, a  most  loYtlv  and  most  accomplished  woninn.  Oa 
the  morning  of  the  fourteenth  of  June  (tho  day  in  which  I 
first  visited  the  sbipl,  the  lady  suddenly  sickened  and  died. 
The  young  husb:tiid  was  frantic  with  grief — but  circumstances 
imperatively  forbade  the  deferring  bis  voyage  to  Xew  York. 
It  was  necessary  to  take  to  her  mother  the  corpse  of  his  adored 
wife,  and  on  the  other  hand,  the  universal  pi-ejudice  which 
would  prevent  his  doing  so  openly,  was  well  known.  Nine- 
tenths  of  the  pas-sengers  would  have  abandoned  the  shipr;  ther 
than  take  passage  wiih  the  dead  body. 

Li  this  dilemma,  Capt:uu  Hardy  arranged  that  the  corpse, 
being  lirst  partially  emfxdmed,  and  packed,  Avith  a  large  quan- 
tity of  salt,  in  a  1>05  of  suitable  dimensions,  should  be  conveyecl 
on  board  as  merclrimlise.  Nothing  was  to  be  said  of  the  lady's 
decease  ;  and,  as  it  was  well  imderstood  that  Mr.  Wyatt  had 
engaged  passage  for  his  wife,  it  became  uecessaiy  tluit  some 
person  should  per^souate  her  during  the  voyage.  This  the  de- 
ceased's lady's  maid  was  easily  prevailed  on  to  do.  The  extra 
state-roonj,  originally  enLraged  for  this  girl  diu'ing  lier  mis- 
tress' life,  was  now  merely  retained.  In  this  state-room  the 
pseudo-wife  slept,  of  course,  every  night.  In  the  daytime  she 
[jerformed,  to  the  Ix-st  of  her  ability,  llie  part  of  her  mistress 
— whoso  per.son,  it  ha*!  been  carefully  ascertained,  was  un- 
known to  any  of  the  |>ass<-ngers  on  board. 

My  own  mistakes  an>se.  naturally  enough,  through  loo  care- 
less, too  inquisitive,  and  too  impulsive  :i  tenq)erameut.  Uut 
of  late,  it  is  a  i-are  tiling  that  I  sleep  soundl}-  at  night.  There 
is  a  countenance^  which  haunts  me,  turn  as  I  will.  Theio  is 
an  hysterical  laugh  which  will  forever  x\xi]^  withiu  my  ears. 


KING  PEST. 


A  TALE  CONTAINING  AN  ALLEGORY. 


Tho  gods  do  bear  and  well  allow  in  kings 
The  things  wliich  tbey  abhor  in  rjis.vi.l  routes. 

Biic/:/inrst'n  Ti'<i<jea;i  oj  Ferrer-  imd  Porrtc!, 

Ar-ouT  hvc'lvi!  o'clock,  oiu'  ni;j;'1it  in  tlio  montli  of  October 
and  (luring  the  chivalrous  reign  of  tho  vhinl  J-wdwiinl,  two  seii-! 
men  belonging  to  the  crew  of  the  Free  and  Easy,  u  tnid- 
iiig  schooner  I'lying  betucen  Slnyw  and  tlie  Thiiincs,  and  tjien 
at  anchor  in  that  liver,  were  nuicli  astonished  to  find  tlieni- 
selve.s  seated  in  the  tap-room  of  an  alediousc  in  the  parish  of 
St.  Andrews,  London — which  ale-house  ))ore  for  sigii  the  por- 
traiture of  a  Jolly  Tar. 

Tlie  room,  although  ill-contrived,  snioke-blackened,  lov,- 
pitclK'd,  and  in  every  othtr  respect  agreeing  witli  tlit*  gencaid 
(•h:UMciei'  of  siK-Ii  places  at  the  peritxi — was,  nevertheless,  in 
the  opinion  of  the  gn-otesqiie  gmups  scalto-fd  lu-re  and  tliere 
within  it,  snllicicntly  well  adiipted  to  ils  pm) osc. 

Of  thcsf  groups  our  two  scanien  fonucil,  1  thinlc,  the  most 
interestiii'.'-,  if  iioL  the  most  conspicuous. 

1'he  one  wlio  ;i])[ieared  to  be  tlie  elder,  and  whom  liis  com- 
panioii  addressed  by  the  characteristic  a])pe]lation  of  ".Legs," 
was  at  the  same  time  nnicli  the  taller  of  tiie  two.  lie  might 
have  ine:)sured  six  fct-  !Uid  a  lialf,  and  an  habitual  stoop  ia 
th-j  shoulders  seenietl  to  have  been  the  neces,  nry  cons<!(iuence 
of  an  altitude  so  enormous.  Sui)erlluities  in  lK;ight  were, 
liowev(r,  more  than  acccnnittKl  for  l)V  ileticiencics  in  otla^r  re- 
spects. He  was  exceedingly  thin,  an  1  miglit,  as  his  associ- 
ates asserted,  have  answejed,  when  drunk,  for  a  i)ennant  at 
tlie  mast-head,  or,  wlieTi  sober,  liavi>  serv(.'il  for  a  jil)-l)oom. 
lint  these  jestH,  and  otla  rs  of  a  similar  natiii-e,  had  evidently 


KING  PEST. 


161 


produced,  at  no  time,  any  effect  upon  the  cachinnatory  mws- 
cles  of  the  tar.  With  hi},4i  cheek-bones,  a  Itirge  hawk-nose, 
retreating  chin,  fallen  under-jaw,  and  huge  protruding  -white 
eycH,  the  expression  of  his  countenance,  altliough  tinged  with 
a  species  of  dogged  indifference  to  mattei-s  and  things  in  gen- 
eral, was  not  the  less  utterly  solemn  and  serious  beyond  all 
attempts  at  imitation  or  description. 

The  younger  seaman  was,  in  all  outward  appearance,  the 
converse  of  his  companion.  His  stature  could  not  have  ex- 
ceeded four  feet.  A  pair  of  stumpy  bow-legs  supi^orted  his 
squat,  unwieldy  figuri',  while  his  unusually  short  and  thick 
arms,  with  no  ordinary  lists  at  their  extremities,  swung  olY 
dangling  from  his  sid(!s  like  the  tins  of  a  sea-turtle.  Small 
eyes,  of  no  particular  color,  twinkled  far  back  in  his  head. 
His  nose  remained  l)uried  in  the  mass  of  llcsh  which  enveloi^ed 
his  round,  full,  and  purple  face  ;  and  his  thick  iii')i)er-li2)  rested 
upon  tlie  still  thicikcr  one  beneath  with  an  air  of  complacent 
self-satisfaction,  much  heightened  by  the  owner's  habit  of 
licking  them  at  intervals.  He  evidently  regarded  his  tall  ship- 
mate with  a  feeling  half-AVondrons,  half-quizzical ;  and  stared 
up  occasionally  in  his  face  as  the  red  setting  sun  stares  up  at 
tlie  crags  of  Ben  Nevis. 

Various  and  eventful,  however,  had  been  the  percgi-inations 
of  the  worthy  couple  in  and  about  tlie  different  tap-houses 
of  the  neighborhood  during  the  earlier  hours  of  the  night. 
Funds,  even  the  most  ample,  are  not  always  everlasting  ;  and 
it  was  with  empty  pockets  our  friends  had  ventured  upon  the 
present  hostelrie. 

At  the  precise  period,  then,  when  this  history  })roperly  com- 
iiionces.  Legs,  and  his  fellow,  Hugh  Tarpaulin,  sat,  eacli  with 
both  elbows  resting  upon  the  huge  oaken  table  in  the  middle 
of  the  floor,  and  with  a  hand  upon  either  cheek.  They  were 
eyeing,  from  behind  a  huge  flagon  of  unpaid-for  "  humming- 
stulf,"  tlie  portentous  words,  "No  Chalk,"  which  to  their  in- 
dignation and  astonishment  were  scored  over  the  doorway  by 
means  of  that  very  mineral  whose  presence  they  purported  to 
deny.  Not  that  tlie  gift  of  deciphering  wi'itten  cliaracters — 
a  gift  among  the  commonalty  of  that  day  considered  little  less 
eabalistieal  than  the  art  of  inditing— could,  in  strict  justice, 
have  been  laid  to  th(*  charge  of  either  disciple  of  the  sea  ;  but 
there  was,  to  say  the  Iriitli,  a  certain  twist  in  the  formatidu  of 
the  letters  —an  indescribable  lee-lurch  about  the  whole — which 
foreboded,  in  the  opinion  of  lioth  seamen,  a  louj,  run  of  dirty 
11 


.1^2 


KING  PEST. 


weather ;  nntl  determined  them  at  once,  in  the  allegorical 
words  of  Logs  himself,  to  "  pump  fillip,  clew  up  all  sail,  and 
scud  before  the  Avind." 

Having  accordingly  disposed  of  what  remained  of  the  al<^ 
and  looped  tip  the  points  of  their  short  doublets,  they  finally 
made  a  bolt  for  the  street.  Although  Tarpauhn  rolled  twice 
into  the  fii*eplacc,  mistaking  it  for  the  door,  yet  their  escape 
was  at  length  happily  efteetcd — and  half  after  twelve  o'clock 
found  oxu*  heroes  ripo  iov  mischief,  and  running  for  life  down 
a  dark  alley  in  tlie  direction  of  St.  Andrew's  Stair,  hotly  pur- 
sued by  the  landlady  of  the  Jolly  Tar. 

At  the  ejioclx  of  tliis  eventful  tale,  and  periodically,  for 
many  years  before  and  after,  all  England,  but  more  especially 
the  metropolis,  resounded  with  the  fearful  cry  of  "  Plague  !  " 
The  city  Avas  in  a  great  mcasiu'o  depopulated — and  in  those 
horrible  regions,  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Thames,  where  amid 
the  dark,  narrow,  and  filthy  lanes  and  alleys,  the  Demon  of 
Disease  was  supposed  to  have  had  his  nativity.  Awe,  Terror, 
and  Superstition  wore  alone  to  be  found  stalking  abroad. 

By  authority  of  the  king  such  districts  were  placed  vndrr 
ban,  and  all  persons  forbidden,  under  pain  of  death,  to  intrude 
upon  their  disn)al  solitude.  Yet  neither  the  mandate  of  the 
monarch,  nor  the  huge  barriers  erected  at  the  entrance  of 
the  streets,  nor  the  prospect  of  that  loathsome  death  which, 
with  almost  absolute  cei'tainty,  overwhelmed  the  wretch 
whom  no  peril  could  deter  fi'om  the  adventiu'e,  prevented  the 
unfui'iiished  and  imtenanled  dwellings  from  being  stripped, 
by  the  hand  of  nightly  rapine,  of  every  article,  such  as  iron, 
brass,  or  lead  woi*k,  which  could  in  any  manner  be  turned  to 
a  iirofitablo  account. 

Above  all,  it  was  usually  found,  upon  the  annual  winter 
opening  of  the  barriers,  that  locks,  bolts,  and  secret  cellars, 
had  proved  but  slender  protection  to  those  rich  stores  of  wines 
and  liquors  which,  in  consideration  of  the  risk  and  trouble  of 
removal,  many  of  the  numerous  dealers  having  shops  in  the 
neigliljorhood  had  consented  to  trust,  dui'ing  the  period  of 
exile,  to  so  insufficient  a  security. 

But  there  were  very  few  of  the  terror-stricken  people  who 
attributed  Ihcse  doings  to  the  agency  of  human  hands.  Pest- 
spirits,  plague-goblins,  and  fever-demons,  were  the  popular 
ini])3  of  mischief  ;  and  tales  so  blood-chilling  were  hourly 
told,  that  the  whole  mass  of  forbidden  buildings  was,  at 
length,  enveloped  in  terror  as  in  a  shroud,  and  the  plunderer 


KINO  PEST. 


163 


liirasclf  was  often  scared  away  by  the  horrors  his  own  depre- 
dations had  crrated ;  leaving  the  entire  vast  circuit  of  pro* 
Ijibitfcd  district  to  gloom,  silence,  pestilence,  and  death. 

It  was  by  one  of  the  ten-ilic  barriers  ah-eady  mentioned, 
and  which  indicated  the  region  beyond  to  bo  under  the  Pest- 
ban,  tliat,  in  scrambhng  down  an  alley,  Legs  and  the  worthy 
Hugh  Tarpaulin  found  their  progress  suddenly  impeded.  To 
return  was  out  of  the  question,  and  no  tune  was  to  be  lost,  as 
their  pursuers  were  close  upon  their  heels.  With  thorough- 
bred  seamen  to  clamber  up  the  loughly  fashioned  plank-work 
was  a  tritle ;  and  maddened  with  the  twofold  excitement  ol 
exercise  and  liquor,  they  leaped  unhesitatingly  down  within 
the  enclosure,  and  holding  on  their  drunken  course  with  shouts 
and  yellings-  were  soon  bewildered  in  its  noisome  and  intricate 
recesses. 

Ha<l  they  not,  indeed,  been  intoxicated  beyond  moral  sense, 
their  reeling  footsteps  nuist  have  been  jialsied  by  the  horrova 
of  their  situation.  The  air  Avas  cold  and  luisty.  Tlie  paving- 
stones,  loosened  from  their  beds,  lay  in  wild  disorder  amid 
(he  tall,  rank  grass  which  sprang  up  around  the  feet  and 
ankles.  Ffdlen  houses  choked  up  the  streets.  The  most 
fetid  and  poisonous  smells  overywlierc  prevailed  ;  and  l)y  the 
aid  of  that  gliastl}''  light  which,  even  at  midnight,  never  fails 
to  emanate  from  a  vapory  and  pestilential  atmosphere,  might 
be  discerned  lying  in  the  by-paths  and  alleys,  or  rotting  in 
the  wiudowless  hal>itations,  the  carcass  ol  n^any  a  nocturnal 
plunderer  arrested  by  the  hand  of  the  plague  in  the  very  per- 
petration of  his  robber}'. 

But  it  lay  not  in  the  power  of  images,  or  sensations,  or  im- 
pediments such  as  these,  to  stay  the  couj-se  of  men  wlio, 
naturally  brave,  and,  at  that  linu!  especially,  brimful  of 
courage  and  "  humming-stuft"! "  would  have  reeled,  as 
straight  as  their  condition  might  have  permitted,  undauntedly 
into  the  very  jaws  of  Death.  Onward — still  onward  stalked 
the  grim  Legs,  making  the  desolate  solenuiity  echo  and  re- 
echo with  yells  like  the  terrific  wax'-Avhoop  of  the  Indian ;  and 
onward,  still  onward  rolled  the  dumpy  Tarpaulin,  hanging 
on  to  the  doublet  of  his  more  active  comiianion,  and  far  sur- 
passing the  hitter's  most  strenuous  exertions  in  the  way  of 
vocal  musi(\  by  bull-roarings  in  hnnso,  from  the  profundity  of 
his  stentorian  lungs. 

They  had  now  evidently  reached  the  stronghold  of  the  pes- 
tilence.    Their  way  at  every  ytep  or  plimge  grew  more  nov 


164 


KING  PEST. 


some  and  more  horrible — the  paths  more  narrow  and  more 
intricate.  Huge  stones  and  beams  falling  momently  from  the 
decaying  roo.s  above  them,  gave  evidence,  by  their  sullen  and 
heavy  descent,  of  the  vast  height  of  the  surrounding  houses ; 
and  while  actual  exertion  became  necessary  to  force  a  ])assage 
through  frequent  heaps  of  rubbish,  it  was  by  no  means  snl- 
dom  that  the  hand  fell  upon  a  skeleton  or  rested  upon  a  more 
llesiiy  corpse. 

Suddenly,  as  the  seamen  stumbled  against  the  eutrunce  of 
a  tall  and  ghastly-looking  building,  a  yell  more  than  usually 
shrill  from  the  throat  of  the  excited  Legs,  was  replied  to  from 
within,  in  a  rapid  succession  of  wild,  laughter-like,  and  liend- 
ish  shrieks.  Nothing  daunted  at  sounds  wliich,  of  such  a  na- 
ture, at  such  a  time,  and  in  such  ai)lace,  might  have  curdled 
the  very  blood  in  hearts  less  irrevocably  on  lire,  the  drunken 
couple  rushed  headlong  against  the  door,  burst  it  ojien,  and 
staggered  into  the  midst  of  things  with  a  volley  of  curses. 

The  room  within  which  they  found  themselves  proved  to  bo 
the  shop  of  an  luidertaker  ;  but  an  open  trap-door,  in  a  cor- 
ner of  the  floor  near  the  entrance,  loolced  down  upon  a  long 
range  of  wine-cellars,  whose  de])ths  the  occasional  sound  of 
bursting  bottles  proclaimed  to  be  well  stored  with  their  ap- 
propriate contents.  In  the  middle  of  the  room  stood  a  table 
— in  the  centre  of  which  again  arose  a  huge  tub  of  what  ap- 
peai'ed  to  be  punch.  Bottles  of  various  wines  and  cordials, 
together  Avith  jugs,  pitchers,  and  flagons  of  every  shape  and 
quality,  were  scattertid  profusely  upon  the  board.  Around 
it,  upon  coffin-trcsscls,  were  seated  a  company  of  six.  This 
company  I  will  endeavor  to  delineate  one  by  one. 

Fronting  the  entrance,  and  elevated  a  little  above  his  com- 
panions, sat  a  personage  who  appeared  to  be  the  president  of 
tlie  table.  His  stature  was  gaunt  and  tall,  and  Legs  was  con- 
founded to  behold  in  him  a  figure  more  emaciated  thnn  him- 
self. His  face  was  as  yellow  as  saf&'on — but  no  feature,  ex- 
cepting one  alone,  was  sufficiently  marked  to  merit  a  particular 
description.  This  one  consisted  in  a  forehead  so  unusually 
and  hideously  lofty,  as  to  have  the  apjiearance  of  a  bonnet  or 
ci'own  of  flesh  superadded  upon  the  natural  head.  His  moulh 
was  puckered  and  dimpled  into  an  expression  of  ghiistly  afl'a- 
bility,  and  his  eyes,  as  indeed  the  eyes  of  all  at  the  table,  wejv! 
glazed  over  with  the  fumes  of  intoxiciiiou.  This  geidlonian 
was  clothed  from  head  to  foot  in  a  rifhly  embroidered  Idack 
silk-velvet  pall,  wrapped  negligently  around  li'^i  form  after  tho 


KINO  PEST. 


1G5 


fashion  of  a  Bpaiiiisli  cloak.  His  lieacl  was  stuck  full  of  sablo 
}j(';aae-ijluiueH,  which  ho  iioddt'd  to  and  fro  with  a  jaunty  and 
knowuij^  air  ;  and  in  his  ri<^'ht  hand  he  held  a  lm<j;e  hunum 
thigh-bone,  with  which  he  api^eared  to  have  been  just  kn(}ck- 
w^  down  some  member  of  the  company  for  a  song. 

Opposite  him,  and  Avitli  her  back  to  the  door,  was  a  lady  of 
no  Avhit  the  less  extraordinary  character.  Although  quite  ns 
tall  as  the  jicrson  just  described,  sho  had  no  right  to  com- 
plain of  his  unnatural  emaciation.  She  was  evidently  in  the 
last  stage  of  a  dropsy  ;  and  her  ligure  resembled  nearly  that 
of  the  huge  puncheon  of  October  beer  which  stood,  with  the 
head  cliiven  in,  close  by  lior  side,  in  a  corner  of  the  chamber. 
Her  face  was  exceedingly  round,  red,  and  full ;  and  the  same 
peculiarity,  or  rather  want  of  pec^nliarity,  attached  itself  to  her 
countenance,  which  Iljcfore  mentioned  in  tlio  case  of  the  })resi- 
dcnt — that  is  to  say,  only  one  feature  of  her  face  was  suffi- 
ciently disiinguishnl  to  need  a  separate  characterization: 
indeed  the  acute  Tarpanliu  immediately  observed  that  the 
same  remark  might  hiivo  ajiplied  to  each  individual  person  of 
the  party,  every  one;  of  whom  seemed  to  possess  a  monopoly 
of  some  particular  portion  of  physiognomy.  With  the  lady 
in  rjuestion  this  portion  proved  to  be  the  mouth.  Commen- 
cing at  the  right  ear,  it  swept  with  a  terrific  chasm  to  the  left 
— the  short  pend;Mits  which  she  wore  in  either  anricle  contin- 
ually bobbing  into  the  aperture.  Sho  made,  however-,  every 
<'xertion  to  keep  her  mouth  c1os(kI  and  look  dignified,  in  a 
dress  consisting  of  a  ncAvly  starched  an<l  ironed  shroud  com- 
ing up  close  under  her  cliin,  with  a  crimpled  rnflle  of  cam- 
bric muslin. 

At  her  right  hand  sat  a  dimiiuitivo  young  lady  whom  she 
appeared  to  i)atroni/.e.  Tliis  delicate  creature,  in  the  trem- 
bling of  her  wasted  lingers,  in  the  li\id  hue  of  her  lips,  and  in 
tjie  slight  hectic  spot  Avhich  tinged  her  otherwise  leaden  com- 
])lc.;ion,  gave  evident  indications  of  a  gallojiing  consumption. 
An  air  of  extreme  liavl  to)),  however,  pervaded  her  whole  ap- 
pearance ;  she  wore  in  a  graceful  and  diyagn;  manner,  a  large 
and  beantifid  winding-sheet  of  the  finest  India  lawn  ;  her  hair 
hung  in  ringlets  over  her  neck  ;  a  soft  smile  played  about 
her  mouth ;  but  her  nose,  extremely  long,  thin,  sinuous, 
flexible,  and  pimpled,  hung  down  far  l)elow  her  under  lip, 
and  in  spite  of  the  delicate  maimer  in  which  she  now  and 
then  moved  it  to  one  side  or  the  other  with  her  tongue,  gave 
to  her  coiuiteuancc  a  somewhat  equivocal  expression. 


IGG 


KTNO  PKST. 


Ovcf  nj^ainst  lier,  ami  upon  the  left  (;f  the  tlropsicul  lady, 
was  seatocl  a  littk'  i>uliy,  \vli(!c/iu<^,  and  ^outy  old  man,  uhowi 
chookrt  rr-jKJScd  x^xm  llio  Hhouldrrs  of  tlicir  owner  like  two 
huf^'e  Itladders  of  Oporto  wine.  AVith  his  arniK  folded,  and 
vith  one  bandaged  leg  deposit(!d  upon  the  table,  he  seemed 
to  think  himself  entitled  to  some  consideration.  He  evidently 
prided  himself  much  upon  every  inch  of  his  pei'sonal  appeai*- 
ance,  but  took  more  especial  delight  in  calling  attenlion  to 
his  gaudy-colored  surtcut.  This,  to  say  the  truth,  must  have 
cost  him  no  little  money,  and  was  made  to  lit  him  exceetl- 
ingly  well — being  fashioned  from  one  of  the  curiously  em- 
broidered silken  covers  appertaining  to  those  glorious  escutch- 
eons which,  in  England  and  elsewhere,  are  customarily  hung 
up,  in  some  conspicuous  place,  upon  the  dwellings  of  departed 
aristocracy. 

Next  to  him,  and  at  the  right  hand  of  the  president,  was  a 
gentleman  in  long  white  hose  and  cotton  drawers.  His  frame 
shook,  in  a  ridiculous  manner,  with  a  tit  of  what  Tarpaulin 
called  "the  horrors."  His  jaws,  which  had  been  newly 
shaved,  were  tightly  tied  up  by  a  bfuidage  of  muslin  ;  and  liis 
arms  being  fastened  in  a  similar  way  at  the  wrists,  prevented 
him  from  helping  himself  too  freely  to  the  liquors  upon  the 
table  ;  a  precaution  rendered  neccessary,  in  the  opinion  of 
Legs,  by  the  peculiarly  sottish  and  wine-bibbing  cast  of  liis 
visage.  A  pair  of  ])rodigious  ears,  nevertheless,  which  it  was 
no  doubt  found  impossible  to  confine,  towered  away  into  the 
atmosphere  of  the  aiiartment,  and  were  occasionally  pricked 
up  in  a  sjjasm,  at  the  sound  of  the  drawing  of  a  cork. 

Fronting  him,  sixthly  and  lastly,  was  situated  a  singularly 
stifl-looking  personage,  who,  being  jilliicted  with  paralysis, 
must,  to  speak  seriously,  have  felt  very  ill  at  ease  in  his  un- 
accommodating habiliments.  He  was  habited,  somewhat 
uniquely,  in  a  new  and  handsome  mahogany  coHin.  Its  top 
or  head-piece  pressed  upon  the  skull  of  the  weartu-,  and  ex- 
tended over  it  in  the  fashion  of  a  hood,  giving  to  the  entire 
face  an  air  of  indescribable  interest.  Arm-holes  had  been 
cut  in  the  sides  for  the  sake  not  more  of  elegance  than  of 
convenience  ;  but  the  dress,  nevertheless,  prevented  its  pro- 
prietor from  sitting  as  erect  as  his  associates  ;  and  as  he  lay 
reclining  against  his  tressel,  at  an  angle  of  forly-tive  degrees, 
a  ijair  of  huge  goggle  eyes  rolled  up  their  awful  whites  to- 
ward the  ceiling  in  absolute  amazement  at  their  own  enor* 
mity. 


RING  PEST. 


If-" 


)» 


Before  each  of  tlio  party  lay  a  portion  of  a  skull,  whicli 
was  used  as  a  (lrinkiii<^'-cup.  Overheail  was  suspended  a 
liuuian  skeleton,  l)y  means  of  a  rope  tiod  round  one  of  tlie 
legs  ami  fastened  to  a  ring  in  the  ceiling.  Tlio  other  limb, 
contined  by  no  such  fetter,  stuck  olf  from  the  body  at  right 
angles,  causing  the  wliolo  loose  and  rattling  frame  to  dangle 
and  twirl  about  at  the  cajmce  of  every  occasional  pu  IT  of  wind 
Avhich  found  its  way  into  the  apartment.  In  the  cranium  of 
this  hideous  thing  lay  a  (piantity  of  ignited  charcoal,  which 
threw  a  htful  but  vivid  light  over  tlie  entire  scene  ;  while  cof- 
dus,  and  other  wares  appertaining  to  the  shop  of  an  under- 
taker, were  piled  high  up  around  the  room,  and  against  the 
windows,  preventing  any  ray  from  escaping  into  the  street. 

At  sight  of  this  extraordinary  assembly,  and  of  their  still 
more  extraordinary  paraphernalia,  our  two  soamcn  did  not 
conduct  themselves  with  that  degree  of  decorum  whiili  might 
have  been  expected.  Legs,  loaning  against  the  wall  near 
which  he  happened  to  be  standing,  dropped  his  lower  jaw 
still  lower  than  usual,  and  spread  ojien  his  eyes  to  their 
fullest  extent ;  while  Hugh  Tarpaulin,  stooping  down  so  as 
to  bi'ing  his  nose  upon  a  level  with  the  table,  and  spreading 
out  a  palm  upon  either  knee,  burst  into  a  long,  loud,  and  ob- 
streperous roar  of  very  iU-timed  and  immoderate  laughter. 

Without,  however,  taking  oifence  at  beha\ior  so  excessively 
rude,  the  tall  president  smiled  very  gi'aciously  upon  the  in- 
truders— nodded  to  them  in  a  dignilied  manner  with  his 
head  of  sable  plumes — and,  arising,  took  each  by  an  arm, 
and  led  him  to  a  seat  which  some  others  of  the  company  had 
placed  in  the  meantime  for  his  acc<...  modation.  Legs  to  all 
this  offered  not  the  slightest  resistance,  but  sat  down  as  he 
was  directed ;  while  the  gallant  Hugh,  removing  his  coflin 
tressel  from  its  station  near  the  head  of  the  table,  to  the  vi- 
cinity of  the  little  consumptive  lady  in  the  winding-sheet, 
plumped  down  by  her  side  in  high  glee,  and  pouring  out  a 
skull  of  red  wine,  qualfed  it  to  their  better  acquaintance. 
But  at  this  presumption  the  stift*  gentleman  in  the  cofhn 
seemed  exceedingly  nettled  ;  and  serious  consequences  might 
have  ensued,  had  not  the  president,  rapping  upon  the  table 
with  his  tmnclieon,  diverted  the  attention  of  all  present  to 
the  following  speech : 

"  It  becomes  our  duty  upon  the  present  happy  occasion •" 

"  Avast  there  !  "  interrupted  Legs,  looking  very  serious, 
"  avast  there  a  bit,  I  say,  and  toll  who  the  devil  ye  all  are,  and 


IfiS 


1\IN(!  rraiT. 


what  l)usiiics?«  ye  Im.vo  licro,  ri;,'f,'Cil  olV  lik<Hlio  fdiil  liciids,  iuul 
s\villi]i<:[  Iho  sini;»  l)liio  ruin  ntowod  nwixy  for  tlio  winter  by  my 
lioiu'st,  hliipinatc,  AVill  Wiinl)le  the  undertaker!  " 

At  this  unpar(lonal)l(i  picco  of  ill-brocdinj;',  all  the  <)ri;4'inal 
compjiny  half  started  to  tiu.'ir  feet,  and  uttered  the  name  rapid 
snocOKsion  of  wild  iiendish  shrielcH  which  hail  before  can.u'ht 
the  attention  of  the  seamen.  The  presidcint,  however,  was  the 
tirst  to  recover  his  comijosurc,  and  at  length,  turning  to  Le;(H 
with  groat  dignity,  recomnicnc(!d  : 

"Most  willingly  will  wo  grat'^'v  any  I'casonable  curiosity  on 
tho  part  of  guests  so  illusti""  uid)idden  though  they  be. 

Know  then  that  in  these  don  s  I  am  nionarcli,  and  here 

rule  with  undivided  empire  unucr  the  tide  of  '  Jving  i'est  tho 
First.' 

"  This  aiiartment,  which  you  no  doubt  profanely  supjiose  to 
bo  the  shop  of  Will  A\'ind)l(!  tho  luideriaker— a  man  whom  we 
know  not,  and  whoso  plebeian  appellation  has  never  licfore  this 
night  thwarted  our  royal  eais  —  lhis  a])arlm(>nt,  J  say,  is  th(! 
Dais-Chandjer  of  our  Palace,  devoted  to  the  councils  of  our 
kingdom,  and  to  other  sacred  and  h)fly  piu'iioses. 

"  Tho  iioble  lady  who  sits  opposite  is  Queen  I'est,  our  Serriie 
Consort.  The  other  oxiilted  ])ersonages  who]a  you  behold 
arc  all  oi  our  family,  and  wear  tho  insignia  of  tho  blood  royal 
luidf  r  tho  respective  titles  of  '  liis  (ii'aee  the  Archduke  Pest- 
iferous'—' His  (iraco  tho  l)uk(i  I'est-Ilentiar— 'Hi^  (iraco 
the  Duko  Tcm-Pest' — and  'Her  Svjreno  Highness  the  Arch- 
duchess Ana- Pest.' 

"As  regards,"  continued  he,  "yoiu"  demand  of  the  business 
upon  which  we  sit  here  in  coun(dl,  w(>  might  be  pardoned  for 
replying  that  it  concerns,  and  concerns  alone,  our  own  private 
and  I'egal  interest,  and  is  in  no  manner  imijortant  to  any  other 
than  ourself.  But  in  consideration  of  those  rights  to  which,  as 
guests  and  strangers,  you  may  feel  yourselves  entitled,  we  will  I 

furthermore  exi)lain  that  we  are  here  this  night,  j^repared  by 
deep  research  and  accurate  investigation,  to  examine,  analyze, 
and  thoroughly  determine  the  indefinable  spirit — the  incom- 
prehensible qualities  and  nature — of  those  inestimable  treas- 
ures of  the  palate,  the  wines,  ales,  and  liqueurs  of  this  goodly 
metropolis  ;  by  so  doing  to  advance  not  more  our  own  debigns 
than  the  true  welfare  of  that  uncartldy  sovereign  -whose  reign 
is  over  us  all,  whose  dominions  aje  unlimited,  and  whose  name 
ir  '  Death.' " 

"  Whose  uame  ie  Davy  Jones ! "  ejaculated  Tai-pauliji,  help 


jaNG  PEST. 


169 


ing  the  lady  by  liia  side  to  a  Hkull  of  liquoiir,  and  pouriug  out 
a  s(!('()iid  for  liiinsolf. 

'•  Pi'ofiiiio  vailct !  "  said  tli(>  prftsidcrit,  now  turning  Ijis  at.- 
tcntiftn  to  tlio  wortliy  Hugh,  "  profauo  ami  (•xc('ral)le  wretch  ! 
we  liave  Haid,  that  in  couKideration  of  those  rights  whicli, 
(vou  in  thy  tilthy  person,  we  feci  no  inclination  to  violate,  we 
liave  condesccndfid  to  make  reply  to  thy  riule  and  un.season- 
ablc  iniiuirics.  We  nevertholoKS,  for  thy  unhallowed  intrusion 
upon  our  councils,  l"  lleve  it  our  duty  to  nuUct  thee  and  thy 
foiiipaniou  in  eacli  a  gallon  of  Bhick  JStrap,  having  ind)il)ed 
wlu(;li  to  the  prosperity  of  our  kingdom,  ut  a  singh;  draught 
and  upon  your  bended  knees,  ye  shall  be  forthwith  free 
citlier  to  proceed  )ipoii  yoiu-  way,  or  remain  and  be  admit- 
Icd  to  the  privileges  of  our  table,  according  to  your  rcsjKctive 
and  individual  pleasures." 

"It  would  be  a  matterof  utter  un])OHsibility."' replied  Legs, 
whom  the  assumjitions  and  ilignity  of  King  I'est  the  First  hud 
evidently  inspireil  with  some  feelings  of  respect,  and  who  arose 
and  steadied  himself  by  the  table  as  he  spoke — "  it  would, 
l)IeaHe  your  majesty,  bo  a  matter  of  utter  uiipossibility  to  stow 
away  iu  my  hold  ev(  ii  one-fourth  part  of  that  Siinie  li(pior 
which  your  majesty  has  just  mentioned.  To  say  nothing  of 
llie  stutfs  place<l  ou  board  in  the  forenoon  by  way  of  ballast, 
and  not  to  mention  the  various  ales  and  liijueur.s  shipped  this 
evening  at  various  seaports,  I  have,  at  present,  a  full  cargo  of 
'hununing  stull"  taken  iu  and  duly  paid  for  at  the  sign  of  the 
'Jolly  Tar.'  You  will,  therefore,  jjlease  your  majesty,  be  so 
good  as  to  tak(!  the  will  for  the  deed — for  by  no  manner  of 
means  either  can  I  or  will  I  swallow  another  drop — least  of  all  a 
drop  of  that  villanous  bilge-water  that  answers  to  the  hail  of 
'Black-Strap.'" 

"JJeLiy  that!"  interrupted  Tarpaulin,  astonished  not 
more  at  the  length  of  his  <;oinpaniou's  speech  tlian  at  the  na- 
ture of  his  refusal,  "  l>elay  that,  you  lubber!  and  I  say, 
Legs,  none  of  your  palaver  !  J/>/  hull  is  still  light,  although 
I  confess  you  yourself  seem  to  be  a  little  top-heavy  ;  and  as 
for  the  matter  of  yoiu*  share  of  the  cargo,  why,  rather  than 
raise  a  squall  I  would  tiud  stowage-room  for  it  myself, 
but " 

"  This  proceeding,"  interposed  the  i)rcsident,  "  is  by  no 
means  in  aecoi"dan<;e  with  the  terms  of  the  mulct  or  sentence, 
which  is  iu  its  nature  Median,  and  not  to  be  altered  or  re- 
called.    The  conditions  we  have  imposed  must  be  fulfilled  to 


170 


Kiiya  PKS'i. 


tlie  letter,  find  that  -without  ii  iiioment's  hesitation — in  failure 
of  whicli  fultihnent  wo  dcereo  that  you  do  here  lie  tied  neck 
and  heels  together,  and  duly  drowned  as  rebels  in  yon  hoys- 
head  of  October  beer !  " 

"  A  sentence  ! — a  sentence  !  —a  ri^'hteous  and  just  sentence  ! 
— a  glorious  decree  ! — a  most  \vorthy  and  upright,  and  holy 
condemnation  !  "  sliouted  the  Pest  family  altogether.  Tiic 
king  elevated  his  forehead  into  innumerable  wrinkles  ;  tlie 
gouty  little  old  man  pulled  like  a  pair  of  bellows  ;  the  lady  of 
the  winding-f^licet  waved  her  nose  to  and  fro  ;  the  gentUfman 
in  the  cotton  drawers  pricked  up  his  ears  ;  she  of  the  sln-oud 
gaspad  like  a  dying  fish  ;  and  he  of  the  coffin  looked  stiff  and 
roiled  uj)  his  eyes 


Ugh! 


ugli 


ugh!"  chuckled  Tarpaulin,  v  ithont  heeding 
'  ujjjh  !  ugh  !  ugh  ! — ugn  !  ugh !  u^h  ! 


the  general  excitation, 

ugli — ugh  !  ugh!  ugh! — I  was  saying,"  said  he,  "I  was  say- 
ing, when  Mr.  King  I'est  poked  in  his  marline-spike,  that  as  for 
the  matter  of  two  or  three  gallons  more  or  less  of  Black  Stra]), 
it  was  a  trifle  to  a  tight  sea-boat  like  myself  not  overstowed  ; 
but  when  it  comes  to  drinking  the  health  of  tlie  Devil  (whom 
God  assoilzie)  and  going  down  upon  my  marrow-bones  to  his 
ill-favored  majesty  thei'e,  whom  I  know,  as  well  as  1  know 
myself  to  ha  a  sinner,  to  be  nobody  in  the  whole  world  but 
Tim  Hurlygurly  tlie  stage-player ! — why  !  it's  quite  another 
guess  sort  of  a  thing,  and  utterly  and  altogethev  past  my 
comprehension." 

He  was  not  allowed  to  finish  this  speech  in  tranquillity. 
At  the  name  of  Tim  Hurlygurly  the  whole  assembly  leajjed 
from  their  seats. 

"  Treason  ! ''  shouted  his  Majesty  King  Pest  the  Fii'st, 

said  the  little  man  with  tlie  gout. 

screamed  the  Archduchess  Ana-Pest. 

muttered  the  gentleman  with  his  jaws  tied  up. 

growled  he  of  the  coffin. 

treason  !  "  shrieked  htsr  majesty  of  the  mouth  ; 
and,  seizing  liy  the  hinder  part  of  his  breeches  the  unfortu- 
nate Taqiaulin,  who  had  just  commenceil  jiouring  out  for 
himself  Ji  skull  of  liqueur,  she  lifted  hiiii  high  into  the  air,  and 
let  liim  fall  without  ceremony  into  the  huge  open  pimcheon 
of  his  beloved  ale.  Bobliing  up  and  down,  for  a  few  seconds, 
like  an  apple  in  a  bowl  of  toddy,  lie  at  length  finally  disap- 
peared amid  the  whirlpool  of  foam  which,  in  the  already  (.'f- 
i'ervescent  liquor,  his  struggles  easily  succeeded  in  creating. 


"Treason!" 
"  Treason  ! 
"Treason!" 
"  Treason !  " 
"  Treason ! 


I 


KTNG  PEST. 


171 


1  lu)yH- 


Not  tfirael\',  however,  did  the  tall  seaman  boliold  the  dis- 
ooiutituro  of  ''is  coinp;aiioii.  JustUng  King  Pest  through  th« 
open  trap,  the  ^■a^ant  Legs  slammed  the  door  down  upon 
liim  with  an  oath,  and  strode  toward  the  centre  of  the  room. 
Heiu  tearing  down  the  skeleton  whieh  swung  over  the  table, 
ho  laid  it  about  him  v.ith  so  mueh  energy  and  good-will,  that, 
as  the  last  glimpses  of  light  died  away  within  the  apartment, 
he  succeeded  in  knocking  out  the  brains  of  the  little  gentle- 
man with  the  gout.  lUishing  then  with  all  his  force  against 
the  fatal  hogshead  full  of  October  ale  auvl  ILigh  Tarpaulin, 
he  rolled  it  over  and  over  in  an  instruit.  Out  burst  a  deluge 
of  liquor  so  fierce,  so  impetuous,  so  ovcrwhehuiug.  that  the 
roiim  was  floi/dcd  from  \\all  to  wall — the  loaded  taljle  was 
ovLrtnrned— the  tressels  were  thrown  upon  their  backs — the 
tiil>  of  punch  into  the  fireplace — and  the  ladies  into  liysterics. 
Piles  of  death-furiiiturc  floundered  al>out.  Jugs,  jatchers,  and 
carboys  miugle<l  pr')miscuously  in  the  miUc,  and  wicker  flag- 
ons encountered  des])erately  witli  bottles  of  junk.  The  man 
with  the  liornn-s  was  drowned  u^ion  thfr  spot — the  little  still' 
gentleman  floated  oft'  in  his  cotiin — and  the  victorious  Legs, 
seizing  by  the  v^-aist  the  fat  lad}  in  the  shroud,  rushed  out 
wifli  her  into  the  street,  and  made  a  bee-line  for  the  Free 
and  Easy,  followed  under  easy  sail  by  the  redoubtable  Hugh 
T.irpaulin,  who,  having  sneezed  three  or  four  fiuie.s,  panted 
anil  putlbd  after  him  wilii  the  Archduchess  .iVna-Pest. 


THREE  SUNDAYS  IN  A  WEEK. 


"  You  hard-liearted,  cluiulcr-lioaded,  obstinat(>,  rusty,  cvusly, 
musty,  fusty  old  savage  !  "  said  I,  in  fancy,  one  aftcvuooii,  to 
my  granduncle  Kumgudgeon — shaking  my  tist  at  him  in 
imagination. 

Only  in  imagination.  The  fact  is.  some  trivial  discrc^pancy 
did  exist,  just  then,  betvveen  wliat  I  said  and  what  T  had  not 
the  courage  to  sav — between  what  1  did  and  what  1  liad  half 
a  mind  to  do. 

The  old  porpoise,  as  I  opened  the  drawing-room  door,  was 
sitting  v-'ith  his  feet  upon  the  niantel-])iece,  and  a  bumper  of 
port  in  Ilia  paw,  making  strenuous  eilorts  to  accomphsh  the 
ditty 

J{em])lut  ton  verre  vitle! 
Vuie  ton  verre  plein  ! 

"My  dear  ;incle,"  said  I,  clo.sing  the  door  gently,  and  ap- 
proaching him  with  the  blandest  of  smiles,  "  you  are  always 
so  i;m/  kind  and  considerate,  and  have  (vinced  your  b(  iicvo- 
lence  in  so  many — so  ir/'v  many  ways — that— that  I  feel  1 
have  only  to  suggest  this  little  jjoint  to  you  once  more  to  make 
sure  of  your  full  acquiescence." 

"  Hem  !  "  said  he,  "  good  boy  !  go  on." 

"I  am  sure,  my  dearest  imcle  fyou  confounded  old  rascal  !|, 
that  you  liave  no  design  really,  seriously,  to  o])po:-!e  my  union 
with  Kai(f.  This  is  merely  a  joke  of  yours,  I  know— ha  !  ha! 
ha  ! — how  vrxj  j)leasant  you  are  at  times." 

"Ha!  ha!  lia  !  "  said  he,  "  curse  you  !  yes!" 

'  To  b(^  sure-  of  course!  I  X»t'*r  you  were  jesting.  Now, 
uncle,  all  that  Kate  and  myself  wisli  at  present,  is  that  you 
would  oblige  us  with  your  advice  a-<- as  regards  the  limf. — 
yoa  kuow,  ujucie— iu  short,  wlien  will  it  bo  most  convenient 


TIIRKK  SlNDxiYS  IN  A    WEEK. 


173 


for  yoixn>clf,  that  tlio  wcddiug   shall — .shiill— coiiio  off,   yon 
know  ?  ■* 

"  Come  oif,  you  .vouurlrel  I — wliah  do  yon  mean  l)y  that? — ' 
Botter  wai;  till  it  "oca  on." 


"Ha:  lir»:  ha:— lu'l  lie!  h 


-hi :  hi !  hi  !— ho  !  ho  !  ho ! 


— hn  !  hn  !  hu  : — oh,  that's  good  ! — oh,  that's  capital — i^nrk  a 
wit !  Bu't  all  we  want  jn.st  nov),  you  know,  uncle,  is  that  you 
\\ ould  indic-ii**^  the  time  precisely." 

"  Ah  :— prec J:fly  V  ' 

"Yes,  uucle — that  Ls,  if  it  would  he  (]uito  agreeable  to 
yor.rsclf." 

"  Wouldn't  it  answer,  B<jbby,  if  I  were  to  leave  it  at  ran- 
dom— fionie  time  within  a  year  or  so,  for  example  ? — must  I 
say  iirecisely?  ' 

'•//you  please,  nnrle — precisely." 

"  WelL,  theD,  Booby,  my  boy — you're  a  fine  fellow,  aren't 
you  V — since  rou  tall  have  the  exact  time,  I'll — why,  I'll  oblige 
you  for  ouf 

"Dear  unck- '.  ' 

"Hush,  sir :  '  [IrowninLj  my  voice] — •  ill  <i])ligeyou  for 
once.  You  shall  havf  '.,y  consent — and  the^»/»)»,  we  muat'nt 
forget  the  plufn — let  me  ~*o  !  when  shall  it  be?  To-day's 
•Sunday — Lsu't  it  ?  Well,  then,  you  shall  bo  married  precisely 
—yv/vii.-^*'///,  now  mind! — ivlu'ii  Ihrrc  Suinlu  >;»'.i'  Intjethcr  ia 
a  I  reek  !  Do  you  hoar  mc,  sir  ?  liV/a^  are  you  gaping  at?  I 
say,  you  shiJi  have  Kite  and  hi  •  I'lum  when  three  Sundays 
come  together  in  awef*k — but  not  till  then — yim  young  scape- 
grace— not  (Hi  thr>n,  if  I  die  for  it.  You  know  me — I'm  a  ma)i 
of  mtj  uord — now  be  otl'!  "  Here  hi;  s\\  llowcd  his  bumper 
of  jiort,  while  I  rushed  from  the  room  i  i  vlespair. 

Avery  ''lineoM  English  gentleman,"  was  my  grand-uncle 
Kumgudgeox  but  unhke  lum  of  the  song,  he  had  his  weak 
])oints.  He  w;ts  a  httle,  i)ursy,  pompous,  passionate,  semicir- 
cular Komebody,  witii  a  red  nose,  a  thick  skull,  a  long  purse, 
and  a  strong  sense  <)i  his  own  consequence.  With  the  best 
heart  in  the  world,  ho  contrived,  through  a  predominant 
whim  of  corilradiclion,  to  earn  for  himself,  umcjng  those  who 
only  knew  him  superticially,  the  character  of  a  ciu'mudgcon. 
Like  many  excellent  petvple,  he  seemcil  ])ossessed  with  a  s))irit 
of  tanioJojaiujn,  which  might  e  isily,  at  a  casual  glance,  have 
been  iui!>takeu  for  malevolence.  To  every  rccpiest,  a  positive 
"No'"  wa>i  hi>  iranif^diati-  answer;  but  in  the  end — in  the 
luny,  luiii,'  eiid — theru  were  excceiUugly  few  requests  which 


174 


THREE  mrNDATS  7JV  A    WEEK. 


be  refused.  Against  all  attacks  upon  his  pnvso  ho  mado  tho 
most  sturdy  defence  ;  but  the  an^ount  extorted  from  him  at 
last  was,  generally,  in  direct  ratio  with  the  length  of  tho  siege 
and  the  stubbornness  of  the  resistance.  In  charity  no  one 
gave  move  liberally  or  with  a  worse  grace. 

For  the  lino  arts,  and  especially  for  the  belles  lottres,  ho 
entertained  a  profound  contempt.  With  this  ho  had  l)een 
inspired  by  Casimir  Perier,  whoso  pert  little  query  ".^1  quoi 
^m  2)o!te  exl-it  boi>  ?  ''  ho  was  in  the  habit  of  quoting,  with  a 
very  droll  pronunciation,  as  the  ve  jilaa  iilJra  of  logical  Avit. 
Thus  my  own  inkling  for  tho  Muses  had  excited  his  entire 
disiileasurc.  He  assured  mo  one  day,  when  I  asked  him  for  a 
new  copy  of  Horace,  that  ilio  translation  of  "YV'/a  luiHcihn' 
von  fit  "  v/as  "a  nasty  poet  for  nothing  fit" — a  remark  which 
I  took  in  high  dudgeon.  His  re[)Ugnance  to  "  tho  human- 
ities" liad,  also,  nuich  increased  of  late,  by  an  accidental  bias 
in  favor  of  what  he  supposed  to  bo  natural  science.  Some- 
body had  accosted  him  in  tho  street,  mistaking  him  f(n'  no 
less  a  personage  than  Doctor  Hiii)blo  L.  ])ee,  the  lecturer 
upon  quack  physics.  This  not  him  oil'  at  a  tangent  ;  and  just 
at  the  epoch  of  this  story — for  story  it  is  getting  to  1)0  after 
all^ — luy  grand-uncle  llumgudgcon  was  accessible  and  pacilic 
only  upon  points  which  happened  to  chime  in  with  tho  (;a}>- 
riolcs  of  the  hobliy  he  was  riding.  For  the  rest,  ho  laughed 
with  liis  arms  and  legs,  and  his  politics  were  stubborn  and 
easily  uudor.stood.  Ho  thought,  with  Horsley,  that  "  tlie  peo- 
ple liavo  nothing  to  do  witli  the  laws  but  to  obey  them." 

I  had  lived  Avith  tho  old  gentleman  all  jny  life.     ]\Iy  jwr- 
ents,  in  dying,  had  bequeathed   me  to  him  as  a  rich  legacy. 
I  believe  the  old  villain  loved  me  as  his  own  child — nearly  if 
not  quite  as  avcU  as  ho  loved  Kate — but  it  was  a  Jog's  exist- 
ence that  ho  led  mo,  after  all.     From  my  iirst  j-eao."  until  my 
fifth,  lie  obliged  mo  with  very  regular  floggiii;;s.      From  fivo 
to  fifteen,  he  threatened  mo  hourly  with  the  House  of  Cor- 
rection.    From  fifteen  to  twenty  not  a  day  pasaed  in  which 
he  did  not  pronuse  to  cut  mo  off  with  a  shilling.     I  was  a  sad 
dog,  it  is  true — but  then  it  was  a  })art  of  my  nature — a  point 
of  my  faith.     In   Kate,   however,  I  had  a  lirm  friend,  and  Ij 
knew  it.     She  was  a  good  girl,  and  told  me  very  sweetly  that 
I  might  have  her  (plum  and  all)  whiJiievei:  I  could  badge)'  myV 
grand-iuicle  Kumgudgeon  into  tho  ne(!ehisary  (ujtisent.     Foor- 
girl! — she  was  barely  lifteen,  and  witlRnit^  this  <'onsent,  hvv' 
little  amount  in  the  funds  was  not  como-at-abl^  mitil  live  ini- 


TlUtKlC  miNDAYH  TN  A    \VFJ']rC. 


17E 


rnofisiuviblo  siDumors  liad  "dragged  tlicir  slow  length  along.'* 
AMuil,  ilicii,  <«)  doV  At  tiftocii,  or  even  :it  tweniy-ono  (fori 
IkkI  now  passed  my  fifth  olympiad),  live  yeai's  in  prospect  are 
vf  ry  nmeh  the  saiiio  as  live  hundred.  In  vain  we  besieged 
Uic  oil  gentleman  with  importunities.  Hero  was  a  ^zmc  dt', 
riddance  (as  Messienrs  Ude  and  Carene  would  say)  which 
suited  liis  perverse  fancy  to  a  T.  It  would  hfive  stirred  the 
indignation  of  Job  hijusclf,  to  see  how  much  like  an  old  mou- 
sor  he  behaved  to  us  two  i)oor  wretched  little  mice.  In  his 
licart  ho  wished  for  nothing  more  ardently  than  our  union. 
He  had  made  up  his  mind  to  this  iill  along.  In  fact,  he  would 
have  given  ten  thousand  povnids  from  his  own  pocket  (Kate's 
plum  was  her  oicii)  if  ho  could  have  iuvenleu  i'.nything  like  an 
excuse  for  complying  -witli  our  veiy  natural  v.  ishes.  But  then 
we  had  been  so  imprudent  as  to  broach  the  subject  owselvcs. 
Not  to  oppose  it  under  such  circumstances,  I  sincerely  be- 
lieve was  not  in  his  power. 

I  have  said  already  thtit  lie  had  his  weak  points  ;  but,  in 
sjjeaking  of  these  I  must  not  be  understood  as  referring  to  his 
obstinacy — which  was  one  of  his  strong  points — "fls.s'/rc- 
vicut  ce  n'iiait  ])as  son  faible."  When  I  mention  his  weakness 
I  have  allusion  to  a  hizurrc  oki-womanish  superstition  which 
beset  him.  He  was  great  in  dreams,  portents,  el  id  (jenasontnt; 
of  rigmarole.  Ho  was  excessively  punctilious,  too,  upon  small 
points  of  honor,  and,  after  his  own  fashion,  was  a  man  of  his 
word,  beyond  doubt.  This  was,  in  fact,  one  of  his  hobbies. 
The  spirit  oi  his  vows  he  made  no  scruple  of  setting  at  naught, 
but  the  /(7/(.r  was  a  bond  inviolable.  Now  it  Avas  this  latter 
peculiarity  in  l.'is  dis])osition,  of  which  Kate's  ingenuity  en- 
al^ed  us  one  line  day,  not  long  after  our  interview  in  the  din- 
ing-room, to  take  u  very  unexpecteil  advantiige,  and,  having 
thus,  in  the  fashion  of  all  modern  bards  juid  orators,  exhausted 
in prolcfjoineiia,  all  tlio  time  at  my  command,  and  nearly  all 
tlie  room  at  nay  dis})osal,  I  will  sum  up  in  a  few  words  what 
constitutes  the  whole  pith  of  the  story. 

It  happened  then — so  the  Fates  ordered  it — that  among  the 
naval  ac([uaintances  of  my  betrothed,  were  two  gentlemen  who 
had  just  set  foot  u]  ion  the  shores  of  England,  after  a  year's 
absence,  each,  in  foreign  travel.  In  company  with  these  gen- 
tlemen, my  cousin  and  I,  preconcerti'dly,  paid  uncle  Rumgud- 
gcon  a  visit  on  the  afternoon  of  Smiday,  October  the  tenth — 
just  three  weeks  after  the  menioralile  decision  ^vhieh  had  so 
cruelly   defeatcil   our  hopes.     Tor   about  half  an   hour  tho 


176 


THIiEB  sum) ATS  IN  A    WEEK. 


conversation  ran  npon  ortlinni'y  topics ;  but  at  last  wo  eon. 
trivetl,  quite  natnviilly,  to  give  it  the  follcjwiiig  tnrn  : 

Cafd.  Pratt.  "Well,  I  liave  been  alisent  just  one  year. 
Just  one  year  to- Jfvy,  as  I  live— let  mo  aea  !  yi^s ! — this  is  OcU 
ober  the  tenth.  You  remember,  Mi\  llumgudgeon,  I  called 
this  day  year  to  bid  you  good-bye.  And  by  the  way,  it  does 
seem  something  like  a  coincidence,  do(>s  it  not — that  our 
friend,  Cajitaiu  Smitlierton,  here,  has  been  abseiit  exactly  a 
year  also — a  year  to-day  ?  " 

Smithetion.  "Yes!  just  one  year  to  a  fraction.  You  will 
remember,  Mr.  Rumgudgeon,  that  I  called  with  Capt.  Pratfc 
on  this  very  day,  last  year,  to  pay  my  parting  respects." 

Uncle.  "Yes,  yes,  yes — I  remember  it  vei'y  well — veiy 
queer  indeed !  Both  of  you  gone  just  one  year.  A  very 
strange  coincidence,  indeed  !  Just  what  Doctor  Bubble  L. 
Dee  would  denominate  an  extraordinary  conciu'rcnce  of  events. 
Doctor  Dub " 

Kate.  ^Interrupting.']  "To  bo  sure,  papa,  it  ?.s  something 
strange  ;  but  then  Captain  Pratt  and  Captain  Sniithorton 
didn't  go  altogether  the  same  route,  and  that  makes  a  diiror- 
ence,  you  know." 

Uncle.  "  I  don't  know  any  such  thing,  you  huzzy  !  How 
should  I  ?  I  think  it  only  maizes  the  matter  more  remarkable. 
Doctor  Dubble  L.  Dee " 

Kale.  "Why,  papa,  Captain  Pratt  went  round  Ca]io  Horn, 
and  Captain  Suiitlierton  tloubled  the  Cape  of  (lood  Hope." 

Uncle.  "  Precisely  ! — the  one  went  east  and  the  other  went 
west,  you  jade,  and  they  botli  have  gone  quite  round  Ihe 
world.     By  the  by.  Doctor  Dubble  L.  Dee " 

Myself,  [f/urriaili/.l  "Captain  Pratt,  you  must  come  and 
spend  the  evening  with  us  to-morrow— you  and  Siuitlicrton — 
you  can  tell  us  all  about  your  voyage,  and  wc;'!!  have  a  gamo 
of  whist  and " 

Pratt.  "  Whist,  my  dear  fellow — you  forget.  To-morrow 
will  be  Sunday.     Some  other  «        ing " 

Kale.  "Oh,  no,  fie! — Kobe  not  quite  so  bad  as  that, 
T\>-dai/'.^  Sandfly. " 

Uncle.     "  To  1)0  sure — to  be  sure  ! " 

Pratt.  "  1  beg  both  your  pardons — but  I  can't  1)e  so  nuich 
mistaken.     I  l;now  to-morrow's  Sunda)',  because " 

Sniithcrtoii.  \jMucIi  .sur/iriKcd.]  "Wliat  arc  you  all  thinking 
about?     Wasn't  i/estcrdin/  Sunday,  I  should  like  to  know?" 

All.     "Yesterday,  indeed!  you  are  out !  " 


J 


; 


THREE  BUND  A  TS  IN  A    WEEK. 


177 


TmcIc.     "  To-day's  Sunday,  I  say — don't  /know?  " 

Pratt.     "  Oh  no  ! — to-moiTow'H  Sunday." 

Sndthcrton.  "You  are  all  mad — every  one  of  you.  I  uin  an 
positive  that  yesterday  was  Sunday,  as  I  aiu  that  I  .sit  upon 
this  chair." 

Kal-'.  [  Jumping  vp  rngerh/.]  "I  see  it — I  sec  it  :\l\.  Papa, 
this  is  a  jud.^'ment  upon  you,  about — about  you  know  what, 
liet  mo  alone,  and  111  explain  it  all  in  a  minute.  It's  a  very 
simple  ihing,  indeed.  Captain  Smitherton  says  that  yesterday 
was  Sunday  :  so  it  was ;  he  is  rii;ht.  Cousin  Bobby,  and 
imcle  and  I,  say  that  to-day  is  Sunday  :  so  it  is  ;  we  are  rijjfht. 
Captain  Pratt  maintains  that  to-morrow  will  be  Sunday:  so  it 
Avill  ;  he  is  ri,^ht.,  too.  The  fact  is,  wo  are  all  right,  and  thus 
three  Sunda>js  have  come  together  in  a  v-eeL:" 

Sinitlierton.  \Afler  o.  panHe.\  "By  the  by,  Pratt,  Kate  has 
us  completely.  \N'hat  tools  wo  two  are  !  Mr.  Kumgudgeon, 
the  matter  stands  thus  :  the  earth  you  know  is  twenty-four 
thousand  miles  in  circumference*.  Now  this  globe  of  the  earth 
tui'us  upon  its  own  axis — revolves — s])ins  round — these  twenty- 
four  thousand  miles  of  extent,  going  from  west  to  east,  in 
precisely  twenty-four  hours.  Do  you  understand,  Mr.  Ilum- 
gudgeon  ?  " 

Uncle.     "To  be  sure — to  be  sure — Doctor  Dub " 

Smitherton.  \I)ron-niiig  his  voice.]  "Well,  sir  ;  that  is  at  the 
rate  of  one  thousand  miles  per  hour.  Now,  suppose  that  I  sail 
from  this  position  a  tliousand  miles  east.  Of  course,  I  antici- 
])ate  the  rising  of  the  sun  here  at  London,  l)y  just  one  hour. 
1  see  the  sxui  rise  one  hour  before  you  do.  Proceeding,  in  the 
same  direction,  yet  another  thousand  miles,  I  anticipate  the 
rising  l)y  two  hours — anotlier  thousand,  and  I  anticijiate  it  by 
three  hours,  and  so  on,  until  I  go  entirely  round  the  globe, 
and  back  to  this  spot,  when,  having  gone  twenty-four  thousand 
miles  east,  I  anticij)atft  the  rising  of  the  London  sun  by  no  less 
than  twenty-four  iiuurs  ;  that  is  to  say,  I  am  a  day  in  advance 
of  vour  time.     Lhulerstand,  eh  ?  " 

Uncle.     "  But  Dubble  L.  Dee " 

Smitherton.  [Spca/^ing  vcrij  load.]  Captain  Pratt,  on  the  con- 
trary, when  lie  had  sailed  a  thousand  miles  west  of  this  posi- 
tion, was  an  hoiu-,  and  when  he  had  sailed  twenty-four  thou- 
sand miles  west,  was  twenty-four  hours,  or  one  day,  behind. 
the  time  at  London.  Thus,  with  me,  yesterday  was  Sunday 
-  thus,  with  you,  to-day  is  Sunday  -and  thus,  with  Pratt,  to- 
morrow will  be  Sunday.     And  wliat  in  more,  Mr.  Kumgud- 


US 


THREE  SUNDA  YS  IN  A     WEEK. 


geon,  it  is  positively  clear  that  we  are  nil  right :  for  there  can 
be  no  pliilosojiliical  reason  assigned  why  the  idea  of  on-i  of  us 
shoiUd  have  ])reference  over  that  of  tlie  other." 

Uncle.  "  My  eyes  !— well,  Kate— well,  Bobby  !— this  is  a 
judgjnent  itpon  nie,  as  you  say.  But  I  am  a  man  of  my  word 
—mark  Hint  !  you  sliall  have  her,  boy  (plain  and  all),  wlienyou 
please.  Done  up,  by  Jove  !  Three  Sinuhiys  all  in  a  row.  I'll 
go,  and  take  Dubble  L.  Dee's  opinion  upon  tJtat." 


THE  DEVIL  IN  THE  BELFRY. 


What  o'clock  is  it  ? — Old  Saying. 

EvKRYiiODY  knows,  in  a  ii^puoral  AVfiy,  that  the  finest  place  in 
the  world  is — or,  alas,  »'«s — the  Dutcli  borough  of  Voudtrvot- 
tciniittiss.  Yet,  as  it  lies  sonic  distance  from  any  of  the  main 
roads,  being  in  a  somewhat  out-of-tluvway  situation,  there 
arc,  perhaps,  very  f(!W  of  my  readers  who  liave  ever  paid  it  a 
visit.  For  the  benoiit  of  those  who  have  not,  therefore,  it  will 
be  only  proper  that  I  should  enter  into  some  aceount  of  it. 
And  this  is,  indeed,  the  more  necessary,  as  with  tlie  hope  of 
enlisting  pulilic  sympathy  in  behalf  of  tlie  inliabitants,  I  de- 
sign here  to  give  a  hisfoi'y  of  the  calamitous  events  which  have 
so  lately  oocurrrul  within  its  limits.  No  one  who  knows  mo 
will  doubt  that  tlie  duty  thus  self-imposed  will  be  executed  to 
the  l)est  of  my  ability,  with  all  that  rigid  impartiality,  all  that 
cautious  examination  into  facts,  and  diligent  collation  of  au- 
thorities, which  should  ever  distinguish  him  who  aspires  to 
the  title  of  historian. 

Vjy  the  united  aid  of  medals,  manuscripts,  and  inscriptions, 
I  am  enabled  to  say,  positively,  tluit  the  borough  of  Vonder- 
votteimittiss  has  existed,  from  its  origin,  in  precisely  the  same 
condition  which  it  at  present  preserves.  Of  the  (late  of  this 
origin,  however,  I  grieve  that  I  can  only  speak  ^vith  that  spe- 
cies of  indefinite  deliniteness  which  matliematicians  ai'e,  at 
times,  forced  io  put  \ip  with  in  certain  algebraic  formidse. 
The  date,  I  may  thus  saj',  in  rcg.nrd  to  the  remoteness  of  its 
antiquity,  cannot  be  less  than  any  assign-^ ble  (piantity  wliatso- 
evcr. 

Touching  the  derivatimi  of  the  name  Vondervotteimittiss,  I 
confess  myself,  with  sorrow,  equally  at  fault.  Among  a  mul 
titmle  of  opinions  upon  this  delicat(!  point — some  acute,  some 
learned,  some  suOiciently  the  reverse—  I  am  able  to  select  uoth- 


180 


THE  DEVIL   fN  TITE  liELFRY. 


ing  •\vhicl'  ouf^lit  tol)f;  considered  saiisfactorv.  Pcrliapa  the  idea 
of  GrofTs\vi{;"ff — ncai'Iy  eoincident  with  lliat  of  Kroutaploiittpy 
• — is  to  Ijf  cautiously  prefiJiTod.  It  runs  : — "  VondcrimiiuiuiUit^n 
—  Vondcr,  Icfjn Doiud'r —  \'ollt'.imillif.-^,i[tiafiiiin(l  Jllciliiz  -Ji/cilziz 
ob^ol :  prn  Jilihfu."  This  dcrivatioii,  to  Hay  tJie  Iruth,  is  still 
countenanced  by  some  traces  of  the  electric  tluid  evident  on 
the  summit  of  the  steejile  of  tlie  House  of  the  Town-Council. 
I  do  not  choose,  however,  to  commit  myself  on  a  theme  of 
such  impoi'tance,  and  must  refer  the  reader  desirous  of  infor- 
mation to  the  "  Oraliiniculir  de  Jirlno:  J'r<rte7'-Vct('7'i>t,"  of  Dun- 
dergutz.  8ee,  also,  Blunder!) uzard  '' JJe  Uerimlioxibut^,"  yt]}. 
27  to  5010,  Folio,  (Gothic  edit..  Red  and  Blade  character. 
Catch-word  and  No  Cypher  ; — wherein  consult,  also,  mari^inal 
notes  in  the  autograph  of  tStutrundputV,  with  the  sub-Commcu- 
tai'ies  of  Gnintundguzzell. 

Notwithst.inding  the  obscurity  -which  thus  envelops  the 
date  of  the  fovuidation  of  Yondervotteimittiss,  an<l  the  deriva- 
tion of  its  name,  there  can  be  no  doubt,  as  I  said  before,  that 
it  has  always  existed  as  we  find  it  at  this  epoch.  The  oldest 
man  in  the  borough  can  reinombcr  not  the  slightest  diiTercnco 
in  the  nppcarance  of  any  jiortion  of  it ;  and,  indeed,  tlie  very 
suggestion  of  such  a  possibility  is  considered  an  insult.  The 
site  of  the  village  is  in  a  perfectly  circular  valley,  about  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  in  circiumference,  and  entirely  surrounded 
by  gentle  hills,  over  whose  summit  the  people  have  never  j'et 
ventured  to  pass.  For  this  they  assign  the  very  good  reason 
that  they  do  not  believe  there  is  anything  at  all  on  the  other 
side. 

Round  tlae  skirts  of  the  valley  (which  is  qnito  level,  and 
paved  throughout  ^\  ith  flat  tiles)  extends  a  continiious  row 
of  sixty  little  houses.  These,  having  their  backs  on  the  hills, 
must  look,  of  course,  to  the  centre  of  the  plain,  which  is  just 
sixty  yards  from  the  front  door  of  each  dwelling.  Every 
house  has  a  smsill  garden  before  it,  with  a  circular  path,  a  sun- 
dial, and  twentv-fout  cabbages.  The  buildings  themselves  are 
so  pi'ecisely  alike,  that  one  can  in  no  manner  be  distinguished 
from  the  other.  Owing  to  the  vast  antiquity,  the  style  of  archi- 
tecture is  somewhat  odd,  but  it  is  not  for  that  reason  the  less 
strikingly  ])icturesquo.  They  are  fashione<l  of  hard-lmrned 
little  briclvs,  red,  with  black  ends,  so  that  the  walls  look  like 
a  cheas-])oard  xq)on  a  great  scale.  The  gables  are  turned  to 
tlie  front,,  and  thei-e  are  cornices,  as  big  as  all  the  I'est  of  liio 
house,  over  the  eaves  anil  over  the  main  doors.     Tlie  windows 


'THE  DEVIL  IN  THE  BELFRY. 


181 


ai'P  narrow  nnd  deep,  with  very  tiny  panta  and  a  great  deal  of 
Bash.  On  ilie  rool"  is  a  v.Tst  quantify  of  tiles  with  long  curly 
e;irs.  The  woodwoi'k,  throughout,  is  of  a  dark  hue,  and  there 
is  much  carving  about  it,  with  but  a  trilling  variety  of  pattern  ; 
for,  time  out  of  mind,  the  carvers  of  Vondervotteindttiss  h;ive 
never  been  able  to  carve  more  than  two  objects — a  time-pit ce 
and  a  cabbage.  But  these  they  do  exceedingly  well,  and  in- 
ters[)erye  them,  with  singular  ingcnuily,  wherever  they  iiiA 
room  for  the  chisel. 

The  dwellings  are  as  much  alilce  inside  as  out,  and  tlic  furni- 
tiu'e  is  all  upon  one  plan.  The  lloors  are  of  scpiare  tiles,  tlie 
chairs  and  tables  of  black-looking  wood  with  thin  crooked 
leji^s  and  pujipy  feet.  The  niantcl-pic  ces  are  wide  and  high, 
and  have  not  only  time-pieces  and  enbbagi-s  sculptured  over 
tlie  front,  but  a  real  time-piece,  which  makes  a  prodigious 
ticking,  on  the  top  in  the  middle,  with  a  llc^wf  rpot  contain- 
ing a  cabbage  standing  on  (>ach  (>xtrcmity  by  way  of  outi'ider. 
Between  each  cabbage  and  the  time-piece,  again,  is  a  little 
Cliina  man  having  a  large  stomach  with  a  great  i-ound  hole  in 
it,  through  which  is  seen  the  dial-plate  of  a  watch. 

The  ilre-places  are  large  and  deep,  v>ith  iierce  crooked- 
looking  tire-dogs.  There  is  constiinlly  a  rousing  tire,  and  a 
huge  pot  over  it,  full  of  saur-kraut  and  pork,  to  whioh  the 
good  Avoman  of  the  house  is  always  busy  in  attending.  She 
is  a  little  fat  old  lady,  with  blue  eyes  and  a  k.I  face,  ami 
Vvcars  a  huge  cap  like  a  sug-ar-l(Kif,  ornanK'iited  with  ])iu'ple 
and  yellow  ribljons.  Her  dress  is  of  orange-colored  linsey- 
woolsey,  made  v(  ry  full  behin<l  and  v(  ry  short  in  the  waist — 
nnd  indeed  v(M'y  sliort  in  other  resjiecls,  not  re:;ching  below 
the  middle  of  her  leg.  This  is  somewhat  thick,  and  so  are 
her  ankles,  but  she  has  a  line  pair  of  green  stocl.ings  to  cover 
them.  Her  shoes — of  pink  leather — are  l'asi(>i.'ed  each  with  a 
bunch  of  yellow  ribbon-,  puckered  up  in  the  shape  of  a  cab- 
bage. In  her  left  hand  tmw,  has  a  little  he.avy  Dutch  watch  ;  in 
her  right  she  wields  a  ladle  for  the  sauer-kraut  and  porlv.  By 
her  side  there  stands  a  fat  tabby  cat,  with  a  gilt  toy  repeater 
tied  to  its  tail,  which  "the  boys  "  have  there  fastened  by  way 
of  a  quiz. 

The  boys  themselves  are,  all  three  of  them,  iii  the  garden 
attending  the  pig.  They  are  each  two  feet  in  Jieiglit.  They 
have  three-cornered  cocked  hats,  purjAe  waistcoats  reaching 
down  to  their  thighs,  buckskin  knee-breeelies,  red  woollen 
stockings,  heavy  shoes  with  big  silver  buckles,  and  long  sur- 


182 


THE  D/'JVTL  m  THE  niJLhltY. 


tout  coats  witJi  \\iv\iv  hiittous  of  iiiollicr-of-poail.  Erinli,  tao, 
lias  a  pijjp  in  liis  moiitli,  and  a  liU.lt;  clinnp_,  watcliiu  liis  rkjlit 
band.  Ho  takes  a  \i\\.\\  and  a  look,  au(l  thon  ii  look  and 
a  ])iitr.  Tlu;  pi,^' — which  is  corpidfnit  jiiid  la/,y— in  ocou- 
pied  now  in  lucking-  up  the  stray  leaves  that  I'all  from  the  cab- 
baj^'es,  ■:.  id  now  in  jJti^'i"ff  ^  \dv\i  behind  at  Iho  gilt  repeater, 
which  the  lu'chius  have  also  tied  to  /(/«  tail,  in  order  to  ninko 
Lini  look  as  liandsome  as  the  cat. 

llip^ht  at  the  front  door,  in  a  hif^h-baclvcd,  leather-bottomed, 
armed  chair,  will)  crooked  lej^s  and  puppy  feet  like  tlio 
tables,  is  seated  the  old  man  of  the  housr  liiinself.  lie  is  an 
excecdiuf?ly  puJly  little  old  genilenian,  -w  Mi  bi<jf  circular  eyes 
and  a  huge  doui)le  chin.  His  dress  I'cseinbles  tiiat  of  tho 
boys — and  I  need  say  iiotliinj,'  further  about  it.  All  the  dif- 
ference is,  that  his  pipe  is  somewhat  bi;^','^'er  than  theirs,  and 
he  can  make  a  f^realer  smoke.  Like  Uicm,  ho  hiis  a  watch, 
but  he  carries  his  Avatcli  in  his  poclu't.  To  say  tho  truth,  he 
has  sometliinpf  of  more  importance  than  a  watch  to  attend  to — 
and  what  tliat  is,  I  s1i:ill  presently  explain.  Ho  sits  with  his 
right  leg  upon  his  left  knee,  wears  a  grave  coutitenance,  and 
always  keeps  one;  oF  his  eyes,  at  least,  resolutely  bent  upon  a 
certain  remarkable  oliject  in  tho  centre  of  the  plain. 

This  ol)ject  is  situated  in  the  steei)lo  of  the  House  of  the 
Town  Council.  The  Town  Council  are  ail  very  little,  round, 
oily,  intelligent  men,  with  big  saucer  eyes  and  fat  double 
chins,  and  havt»  their  coats  much  longer  and  their  shoe- 
buckles  much  bigger  than  the  (n-dinary  inhabitants  of  Vou- 
dervotteimittiss.  Si'  ce  my  sojourn  in  the  borough,  they  have 
had  sf^veral  sjx'cirJ  meetings,  and  have  adopted  these  three 
imjjortant  resolutions  : — 

''  That  it  is  wrong  to  alter  the  good  old  course  of  things  :  " 

"That  there  is  nothing  tolerable  out  of  Vondervotteiniit- 
tiss  :  "  and — 

"  That  we  will  stick  by  our  clocks  and  our  cabbages." 

Above  the  session-room  of  the  Council  is  the  steeple,  and  in 
the  steeple  is  tho  belfry,  where  exists,  and  has  existed  time 
out  of  mind,  tho  pride  and  wonder  of  the  village — the  great 
clock  of  the  borough  of  Vond(;rvotteimittiss.  And  this  is  the 
object  to  which  the  eyes  of  tho  old  gentlemen  are  turned  who 
•sit  in  the  leather-bottomed  arm-chairs. 

The  great  clock  has  seven  faces — one  in  each  of  tho  seven 
sides  of  the  steephis — so  that  it  can  be  readily  seen  from  all 
quarters.     Its  faces  are  large  and  white,  and  its  hands  heavj 


THE  hKVll.   IN  THE  imLERY. 


18:] 


nnd  blnrlc.  Tlioro  is  n,  bolfry-iimn  whoso  sole  diif.y  is  fo  ntirnd 
to  ii  ;  l)iit,  tliis  (Inly  ih  tJio  most  perfoft  of  sinecures — t'ov  tlio 
eloek  ol'  VondorvottoiiiiitiisH  was  never  yet.  known  to  Iiuvo  any- 
diinj,'  the  matter  Vvitli  it.  Until  lately,  the  baro  supposition 
of  sueh  a  iliini^  was  eonsidei'ed  heretical.  From  tlio  remotest 
period  of  antiquity  to  which  tlie  archives  have  reference,  tho 
liours  have  been  rcgularlj'  struck  by  the  big  bell.  And,  in- 
deed, Ihe  case  was  just  the  same  with  all  the  other  clocks  and 
AViitches  in  tlus  borough.  Never  was  su(;h  a  place  for  keeping 
llie  true  tunc.  When  the  lar;^e  cla2)per  thought  pro2)er  to  say 
"Twelve  o'clfx'k  ! "  all  its  ol)edient  followers  opened  their 
throats  Hinniltaneonsly,  and  responded  lil;o  a  very  echo.  In 
short,  the  good  burj^diers  wore  fond  of  their  sauer-kraut,  but 
tlien  they  were  proud  of  their  clocks. 

All  ])coplo  who  hold  i-.inecuro  ollices  are  held  in  men-o  or  less 
respect,  and  as  tho  1)elfry-man  of  Yondervotteimittiss  has  tlio 
most  perfect  of  sinecures,  he  is  the  most  perfecstly  respected 
of  any  man  in  the  world.  He  is  the  chief  dignitary  of  the 
borough,  and  tho  very  pigs  look  uj)  to  him  with  a  sentiment 
of  reverence.  His  coat-tail  is  verij  far  longer — his  pipe,  his 
slioe-buckles,  his  eyes,  and  his  stomach,  f'r//  far  bigger — than 
those  of  any  otlier  old  genih^man  in  tho  village  ;  and  as  to  his 
chin,  it  is  not  only  double,  but  triple. 

I  have  thus  painted  the  happy  estate  of  Vondervotttinjittiss  ; 
alas,  that  so  fair  a  picture  should  ever  experience  a  reverse  ! 

There  has  been  long  a  saying  among  the  wisest  inhabitants, 
that  "no  good  can  come  IVoni  over  the  hills ;"  and  it  really 
rseemcd  that  the  wcu'ds  had  in  them  something  of  the  sj^irit  of 
j)rophocy.  It  wanted  iive  minutes  of  noon,  on  the  d'ly  before 
yesterday,  when  thei-o  appeared  a  very  odd-looking  object  on 
t.he  summit  of  tho  ridge  to  tho  eastward.  Such  an  occurrence, 
of  course,  attracted  iniiversal  attention,  and  every  little  old 
gentlrman  who  sat  in  a  leather-bottomed  arm-chair,  turned 
one  of  his  eyes  v.ith  a  stare  of  d'sniay  upon  the  phenomenon, 
fcitill  keeping  the  other  upon  the  clock  in  the  steeple. 

liy  the  time  that  it  wanted  only  three  minutes  to  noon,  the 
droll  object  in  (piestion  was  porcc  ivcd  to  bo  a  very  diminutive, 
foreign-looking  young  man.  He  descended  the  hills  at  a 
great  rate,  so  that  everybody  had  soon  a  got>d  look  at  him. 
He  was  really  the  most  tlnnicky  little  ))ersonage  that  had  ever 
been  seen  in  Vondervotteimitliss.  His  countenance  was  of  a 
dark  snuff-color,  and  he  had  a  long,  hooked  nose,  pea  eyes,  a 
wide  mouth,  and  an  excellent  set  of  teeth,  which  latter  he 


184 


THE  DEVIL    TN  THE  HE  I.  FRY. 


seemed  anxious  pf  disjilaying,  as  he  wan  .'.rrinning  from  ear  to 
ear.  Vslti^i  with  mustachioH  and  whiskers,  tlmro  was  none  of 
the  rest  of  his  fa'-e  to  ])e  seen.  His  liead  was  uncovered,  and 
his  Lair  neatly  done  up  in  papKlo/rx.  His  dress  was  a  tif^ht- 
fittinfT  swiillow-failod  blaclf  coat  (from  oik-  of  wliose  pockets 
dangled  a  vtist  lcn<(tii  of  whiiP  luindkerclii<f/,  black  kersry- 
mere  knee-ln'oeches,  black  stockmj^'s,  and  stuTui)y-lookin,i:; 
pumps,  with  luiE^e  bunches  of  black  satin  ril)b()n  for  bows. 
Under  one  arm  ho  cnn-ied  a  liuge  chapciH-de-bnui,  and  under 
the  other  a  fiddle  nearly  tive  times  as  big  as  himself.  In  his 
left  hand  wiis  a  g'  '  snufi'-box,  frnm  which,  as  he  capered 
down  the  hill,  cutting  all  manner  of  fantastical  stfps,  he  took 
snuff  incessantly,  with  an  air  of  the  gi'eatest  possible  stlf-sat- 
isfaotion.  CJod  bless  nie  ! — here  was  a  sight  for  the  honest 
burghers  of  Vondervotteimittiss  ! 

To  speak  plainly,  the  fcdlow  had,  in  sjtite  of  his  grinnincr,  an 
audacious  and  sinister  kintlof  face  ;  and  as  he  curvetted  right 
into  the  village,  the  oild  stumpy  api)earar,ce  of  his  pumps  ex- 
cited no  little  suspici(m  ;  and  many  a])urghcr  who  beheld  him 
that  day  woidd  have  given  a  trifle  for  a  peep  laneath  tho 
white  cambricr  handkerchief  \Nhicli  hung  S'>  olitrusively  from 
the  pocket  of  his  swallow-tailed  cc»at.  Cut  what  mainly  occa- 
sioiied  a  rigliteOiis  indignation  was,  that  tlic  scroundrclly  pop- 
injay, while  he  cut  a  fandango  here,  and  a  whirligig  there,  did 
not  seem  to  have  the  remotest  idea  in  tl;e  world  of  such  a 
thing  as  keeping  lime  in  his  steps. 

The  good  people  of  the  borough  liad  scarcely  a  chance,  how- 
ever, to  get  their  eyes  Ihorouglily  open,  when,  just  as  it  wanted 
hall  a  minute  of  noon,  the  rascal  liounced,  as  I  say,  right  into 
the  midst  of  them  ;  gave  a  cJiasiicz  here,  and  a  hainwez  there  ; 
and  then,  after  npiroucl'e  and  a  pux-de  zi-ph^/r.  ijigeon-wiiig'.Hl 
himself  right  up  into  the  beltW  of  the  House  of  the  To\\n- 
Couiicil,  where  the  wonder-stricken  bt'ltVy-man  sat  smoking  in 
a  state  of  dignity  and  disnjay.  But  the  little  chap  seized  liiui 
at  once  by  the  nose  ;  gave  it  a  swing  and  a  pull ;  cliijjped  tho 
big  vhapca'i-'ir.-hrai^  upon  his  head  ;  knocked  it  down  over  his 
eyes  and  nioutli  ;  and  th'-u,  lifting  u]»  t'le  big  liddle,  beat  him 
with  it  so  long' and  so  soundly,  that  with  tho  behVy-man  being 
so  fat,  and  the  tiddle  <)eingf  so  liollov,-,  you  would  have  sworn 
that  there  wasartigimentof  doubh;-ba,~.s  drummers  all  beating 
the  devil's  tattoo  up  in  the  belfi7/  of  tho  steeple  of  V^oiidorvot- 
teimittiss- 

Tiiert)  ici  no  kno'tviiig  to  what  desperate  act  of  vengeance  thi*^ 


■ 


THE  DEVIL  m  THE  BELFRY. 


185 


Eiglit ! 


Aidit ! 


Nine ! 
Noiu ! 


uiii)riiiniplecl  attack  might  liave  avouseJ  tlie  iuhabiiants,  but 
for  the  important  fact  tiiat  it  now  wauted  only  haU'  a  Hecoiid 
of  uoou.  The  bell  was  about  to  stril-"?,  and  it  vv^as  a  matter  of 
absolute  and  pre-eminent  necessity  thai  eveiybody  should  look 
Will  at  his  watch.  It  was  evid  it,  howevei",  tliat  just  at  this 
moment,  the  fellow  in  the  i-:teepk  was  doing  souiethiug  that 
he  had  no  business  to  do  vyith  the  clock.  But  us  it  now  began 
to  strike,  nobo'ly  had  an}'  time  to  attend  to  his  mrmcjeuvies,  lor 
they  had  all  to  eomit  the  strokes  of  the  bell  as  it  sounded. 

"  One  !  "  said  the  clock. 

"  Von  !  "  echoed  every  little  old  gentleman  hi  every  leather- 
bottomed  arm-chair  in  Vondervotteimittiss.  "  Von  !  "  siiid  his 
watch  also  ;  "  von  !  '  said  the  watch  of  his  vrov/,  xiid  "  von  !  " 
said  the  watches  of  the  boys,  and  the  little  gilt  repeaters  on 
tilt'  tails  of  the  cat  and  })ig. 

*'  Two  !  "  continued  tlu;  big  l.»ell ;  and 

"  Doo  !  "  repeated  all  the  repeaters. 

"  Three  !      Four  !      Five  !     Six  !     Heveu  ! 
Ten  !  "  said  the  bell. 

"Dree!     Vour !     Fibc !     Sax!     Sebeu ! 
Den  !  "  answered  the  otliers 

"  Eleven  !  "  said  the  l)ig  one. 

"  Eleben  !  "  assented  the  little  fellows. 

"  Twelve  :•' said  the  bell. 

"  Dvelf  !  "  they   replied,  perfectly  satisfied, 
their  voices. 

"Und  dvelf  it  isH  I  "  said  all  the  little  old  gentlemen 
tiiig  up  their  watches.     But  the 
them  yet. 

''Thirteen!"  said  he. 

"Df'.'  Teufel ! "'  gasjjed  the  little  old  gentlemen,  turnhig 
pale,  (b-opping  their  pipes,  and  putting  down  all  theii-  right 
legs  from  over  their  left  knees. 

'•  Der  Teufel !  "  gi  ( >aned  they,  "  Dirteen  !  Dirteen  ! !— Mcin 
Gott,  it  is  Dirteen  o'clock  !  !  " 

Why  attempt  to  de.-ioribe  the  terrible  scene  which  ensued  ? 
All  Voudervotteiniittiss  dew  at  once  into  a  lamentable  state  of 
uproar. 

"  Vol  is  cum'd  to  mein  pelly  ?  "  roared  all  the  boys.  "  I'vo 
been  ongry  for  dis  hour  1 " 

"  Vot  is  cum'd  to  mein  kraut?  "  screamed  all  the  vrows.  "  It 
has  been  done  to  rags  for  dis  hour  ! "' 

"  Vot  is  cum'd  to  mein  pipe"'' "  sworo  all  the  httle  old  geu* 


and   dropping 

put- 


big  bell  had  not  done  with 


38G 


TUB  DEVIL  IN  THE  BELFRY. 


tlemen,  "  Bonder  and  Blitzen  !  it  has  been  smoked  out  for  dia 
liour  ! " — and  they  tilled  them  up  again  in  a  great  rage,  and, 
sinking  back  in  their  arm-cliaiis.  puiVed  a-way  so  fast  and  so 
fiercely  that  the  whole  valley  was  immediately  tilled  with  im- 
penetrable smoke. 

Meantime  the  cabbages  all  turned  very  red  in  the  face,  and 
it  seemed  as  if  old  Nick  himself  had  taken  possession  of  evovy- 
thing  in  the  shape  of  a  tunepiece.  The  clocks  (;nrved  upon 
the  fui'niture  took  to  dancing  as  if  bewitched,  v.hilo  those  upon 
the  mantlepieces  could  scarcely  contain  themselves  for  fury, 
and  kept  such  a  continual  striking  of  thirteen,  and  such  ii 
frisldng  and  wriggling  of  their  pendidums  as  was  really  lior- 
rible  to  see.  But,  worse  tiiiui  all,  mithcr  the  cats  iku'  tlie  pigs 
could  put  up  any  longer  with  the  l)ehavior  of  the  little  repeat- 
ers tied  to  their  tails,  and  resented  it  by  sciuiiperiiig  all  over 
the  place,  scratching  and  poking,  and  sciueaking  and  screech- 
ing, and  caterwauling  and  S(]ualling,  and  living  into  the  faces, 
and  iTJuning  under  the  petticoats  of  tlie  pc()])le,  and  creating" 
altogether  the  most  abominable  din  and  confusion  which  it  is 
possible  for  a  rcabonal)le  person  to  conceive.  And  to  make 
matters  still  more  distressing,  the  ras("ally  little  scape-grace  in 
the  steeple  was  evidently  extrting  himself  to  the  utmost. 
Every  now  and  then  one  might  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  scoun- 
drel through  the  smoke.  Tliere  he  sat  iu  the  belfry  upon  the 
belfrj'-man,  who  was  lymg  flat  iipon  his  back.  In  his  teelh 
the  villain  held  the  bell-rope,  which  he  kept  jerking  about 
with  his  head,  raising  such  a  clatter  that  my  ears  ring  again 
even  to  think  of  it.  On  his  lap  lay  the  big  fiddle  at  which  he 
was  scraping  out  of  all  time  and  tune,  with  both  hands,  mak- 
ing a  great  show,  the  nincompoop  !  of  playing  "Judy  O'Flau- 
nagan  and  Paddy  O'Raferty."' 

Atiairs  being  thus  miserably  situated,  I  left  the  place  in 
disgust,  and  now  appeal  for  aid  to  all  lovers  of  correct  time 
and  fine  kraut.  Let  us  proceed  in  a  body  to  the  borough, 
and  restore  the  ancient  order  of  things  in  Voudu'votteimittisii 
by  ejectiug  tliut  little  fellow  fi'om  the  sitecple. 


for  (lis 
2,  and, 
md  so 
til  im- 

:?e,  aud 
evory- 
l  upon 
:o  upon 
r  fnry, 
sucli  a 
1y  lior- 
lio  pigH 
repeat- 
ill  over 
creecli- 
0  faces, 
reatiii<>' 
Lch  it  in 
)  lualvG 
^iwe  ill 

LltlilOSt. 

:  scoun- 
pou  the 
is  tee  111 
f  about 
;o-agaiii 
liicli  lie 
Is,  nialc- 
O'Flau- 

plaeo  in 
Bct  tiino 
lorougli, 
:;iinitUsii 


